Latet Anguis In Herba
by Slide
Summary: A collection of shorts covering the school years of a group of Slytherin students at Hogwarts. Voldemort might not be their primary concern, but that doesn't guarantee carefree times in the powerplays of the House of the ambitious and cunning.
1. Prologue

**Latet**** Anguis in Herba**

**Prologue**

A downpour of rain tends to be a fairly normal incident anywhere in the British Isles at any time of year. Even in the middle of summer, if all other places on Earth are bright and sunny and warm, there is a near-guarantee that every Brit who has been foolish enough to remain at home will be sopping wet.

Pleasant weather does occur from time to time, but it is so rare and random that the natives cherish it as if it is a gift from God himself, and suddenly develop all manner of outdoor habits that, normally, the climate does not permit them to partake in (with the sole exception of rugby, a sport which is not a true sport if the wind isn't howling at the players' legs and the rain lashing at their faces. It is a _man's _game, after all, and men can be quite particular about such things).

Yet most of the time ideal rugby weather prevails in Britain, and apart from this single sport, Brits can't really find all that many outdoor activities to enjoy unless they wish to participate in them soaked and freezing cold. As such, inhabitants of the British Isles have mastered the art of enjoying themselves indoors, devising a whole range of activities to suit this purpose.

Badminton is one such activity – a tennis which doesn't destroy the decoration, as the fattest king of the English discovered. Cards would presumably be another (for truly, who but the insipidly royalist Brits would place kings and queens on them?). Tiddlywinks is probably one also – again, would any nation other than the Brits _really_ come up with such a ridiculous name? And, finally, there is the most honoured tradition of all: drinking.

I do not refer _solely _to the consumption of alcohol, though that is indeed a big part of it. No, tea will do a Brit very nicely, as a leftover from their imperialistic ways and a habit it would be a crime to drop. But mostly, yes, it is alcohol. Though the Brits do not really produce much alcohol worth noting, save gin – their beer is most _certainly _an acquired taste, and the continent tends to do it better anyway – this does not usually stop them. Pubs are a unique invention upon this Earth, and not even the most modern or trendy of bars can really compare to a traditional British pub, a temple to one of the greatest British pastimes.

Ironically, a rainy evening in summer can be something of a mixed blessing for a pub owner. Yes, it chases people away from barbecues and other outdoors (and thus non-British) events, but going to a pub would, in itself, require braving the rain. Those who wish to go out are thus tempted to make use of the car, a device which, in the eyes of a British pub owner, is the creation of Satan himself, as it discourages drinking.

Terry Wilson, owner of the White Stag pub, was actually quite pleased with a spot of rain. The White Stag had the superb situating of being the only pub in the village of Kittering, a fairly small place which using a car to traverse would be the height of stupidity. As such, he had a decent collection of regulars who would abandon their summer barbecues and walk down to the Stag for the night.

Summer was quite good for these things. Despite the rain it was not terribly cold out there, and holidays meant that students – the greatest of drinkers – would be at home and quite inclined to spend the evening down the pub.

Kittering, Terry considered, really was a good place for his business to be. He had run the pub for ten years now, and thus was an accepted part of the local environment. There was a solid supply of regulars who kept his business afloat and made the job quite enjoyable, as it meant he could spend evenings sitting around with his friends and occasionally getting them drinks, and, above all, it wasn't a dodgy area. The pub chain he had lately joined insisted on his taking a few management courses, and despite his initial disdain, Terry had learnt a thing or two from them. He had also discovered from colleagues who ran establishments in less savoury environments that he was beyond lucky in not having to replace a pool cue every week, or deal with broken tables, broken glasses, broken noses on a regular basis. No, Kittering was a good place, with good people.

Well, mostly.

There were a few slightly undesirable inhabitants in the small village. The old woman who lived by herself with her few billion teapots and got called a witch by small children. The new couple who had moved into the area because they deemed it 'quaint' – and although there wasn't really anything too wrong with them, the people of Kittering really objected to their home being called quaint. The man who lived in the house in the next street from the White Stag who spent half of his time away from home and the other half in Kittering having weird things happen to him. _And_ he had a son.

Well, actually, he didn't. There was a considerable amount of discussion as to why someone as eccentric as William Rayner had adopted the equally odd boy Caldwyn Brynmor – or something equally excessively Welsh – and just what had happened to the boy's parents in the first place, but nothing ever came of it beyond wild and entertaining rumours. The general consensus was that Rayner was merely the boy's unsuitable godfather and had thus found himself with the spawn of now-deceased close friends thrust upon him.

Terry supposed that he couldn't complain all that much, however. After all, Rayner spent most of his time away on whatever business he had, and Brynmor went to some boarding school, the both of them returning to Kittering only in the summer. And this summer, Brynmor had brought a bunch of friends with him, all of whom seemed to be quite fond of the White Stag. They were just as weird as Brynmor and Rayner, mind, but they drank enough for Terry to not be all that bothered.

Besides, from what he'd overheard of their earlier conversations, tonight was the last day of holidays and they'd all be leaving for whatever school it was they went to on the morrow. Rayner, too, would presumably flit off for whatever demanded his attention.

They weren't here yet, however. It was only seven o' clock, and none other than the utterly devoted regulars were filtering into the Stag. This was the quiet time, just after the rush of the early dinners and before the even bigger rush of the excessive drinking. Terry tended to enjoy this time – it gave him the opportunity to look everything over, check the glasses, ensure that all the bottles were fully stocked, make a few orders to the bosses for a few more barrels of Guinness, and basically prepare for whatever would strike.

He wiped away at the counter in a suitably landlord-ish way, the way owners of traditional pubs were supposed to, then flicked the towel over his shoulder to survey the pub. Terry was particularly proud of the White Stag. It was one of those old establishments which had been here a century, and although he had done his best to keep it modern and in good nick, he'd also preserved as much of the old charm of the place as was possible – the polished wooden panelling, the old (fake) hunting trophies up for display on the walls, a few relics of the Edwardian period decorating the place… yes, it was a typical British pub. But it was _his _British pub, and it seemed he was very lucky for it to not be destroyed week after week.

That wasn't to say that the place was always clear. Kittering lay on the route between the two nearest towns, so in the evenings it wasn't uncommon to find groups passing through, and occasionally stopping in the White Stag for a drink or two. When you got the already drunken group of youths deciding they'd have one more round before disappearing off into the night, things could get… a little rowdy. All in all, however, fortunately, the regulars were quite alright.

The door laughed open at last to allow in the young Caldwyn Brynmor and his group of friends, as prompt in their arrival at the pub as ever, seeming to be missing one of their number but no less enthusiastic for it. Instead of taking their usual table in the corner of the pub, the three of them headed over to the bar, pulling up stools jovially and acknowledging the bartender with grins and nods.

"Evening, Mister Brynmor," Terry greeted them a little vaguely as he picked up a pint glass to polish, quite sure he'd be needing to fill it in a few moments. "Glad you could grace us with your presence before flitting off on holiday, wherever you're going. Will your friend be joining you later, or is it just you three again?"

"Doyle went off for one of his walks," one of the boy's friends, a girl of slender build, medium height and mildly disturbingly bright bleached, short, spiky hair, answered casually. "He should be with us in a short while."

"Until then, it is, indeed, us three," said the final member. He was tallest of the three, with irritatingly neat blonde hair at the top of his lofty, wiry frame and the sort of clear blueness in his eyes which had to, pretentiously, come from contact lenses or the like. "Just like old times."

"For half an hour," the shorter, more muscular and solidly built Caldwyn Brynmor grunted, running a hand through his closely-cropped, bristly dark hair. "Which is just as well, as old times were pretty bloody annoying."

"You've got no _nostalgia _in your soul, Cal," the other boy declared. Terry was a little relieved to realise that he wasn't the only one who found pronouncing the Welshman's name to be something of a challenge. "Surely you can reminisce a little with us? It is a memorable night, after all."

Terry decided that it would probably be best that he intervened before they got too caught up in the conversation. "Drinks, people?" he asked jovially. He _did _know for a fact that the trio were only seventeen, and they knew he knew, but he… to tell the truth, he didn't dare challenge these odd kids on anything. God knew how they might react. Besides, there were people who could _legally _drink who made a whole lot more problems than this group.

"I'll have a Guinness," Cal grunted, attempting to dismiss his friend's tirade with a vague wave of the hand.

"Righto, mate. Mister Grey, Miss Cole?" Terry turned to the other two.

Tobias Grey and Tanith Cole – what _was _it with these people, they all had dodgy-sounding names – glanced at each other before the tall boy gestured vaguely to his companion, inviting her to order first. "Vodka and orange," she said politely, leaning forwards slightly on her stool.

"And a Strongbow," Tobias supplemented, brushing his hair back slightly. He paused, then cast Cal a glance. "Guinness? I thought we were going to have a shot at a top-shelfer tonight?" he added imploringly.

Terry pricked his ears as he set about pouring Cal's pint. A top-shelfer – that was, a drink from every bottle on the top shelf behind the bar – usually offered a fairly fruitful night for a bartender. Of course, it had a tendency to wipe out his patrons, but, well, business was business.

"Wait until Doyle's here," Tanith scolded, hitting Tobias's arm. "We can't start without him. You know how he hates to have to carry us all back home." She shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't have a bloody clue how he manages it, tell the truth."

"Stamina of an ox," Cal murmured as he handed Terry some coins for the pint set before him. "I always told him that would come in handy on the Quid– ah, on the pitch," he stammered, stumbling over whatever he was going to say. Terry ignored him as he set about getting the drinks for the other two.

"Ah yes. Montague's become really rather addled; why do I have a feeling you'll be trying to weasel your way onto the team?" Tobias asked with an amused look. "Sure you're up for it? You haven't played a game in years."

"I'm betting that Montague, in his new and improved state of mind, will set aside all earlier prejudices and kick off one of those two brain-dead goons that currently hold the position that is mine by right," Cal said loftily, waving a hand vaguely. "I can beat either of them on my worst day and their best. And we're going to kick Gryffindor's arse this year."

"What's this?" Terry asked cheerfully, setting the two glasses in front of Tanith and Tobias. "School rugby team?"

For some reason, the three looked vaguely amused as they sipped their drinks. "Something like that, yeah," Tanith agreed, smirking slightly.

"The last two captains haven't been particularly fond of me, even though I can out-play either of them. The current one has recently suffered a slight amount of… mental difficulties following a rather nasty prank, and if all goes well, I'll be back on the house team." Cal winked at his two companions. "That'll show the ponces."

Terry blinked, then shrugged and picked up another glass, polishing it expertly. The three obviously went to some fancy boarding school, and as a product of the local comprehensive, the bartender wasn't _quite _sure that Cal could honestly use the term 'ponces' without achieving the height of hypocrisy. He had never been one for rugby himself, and the whole 'house system' of schools struck him as another one of those protocols of snobbish establishments. He decided maybe it would be best if he didn't interfere in their conversation any more.

"But that's what I mean," Cal was saying as Terry, out of habit and curiosity, tuned in vaguely. "It's not about the past anymore. It's about looking forward. Big changes are coming, not to mention nasty times. We've got to all… focus on the future." Again, he gave a vague gesture which seemed to be the hand equivalent of a 'y'know'.

"Normally, you know I'd agree with you," Tobias said dryly. "But this year it's a little different. Just think, tomorrow will be the _last _time we depart on the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross. Doesn't that scare you at all?"

Cal seemed to consider this for a few moments. "A little," he conceded at last.

"Still… whatever happens in the future, we've had a great six years. And I'm sure the time ahead of us promises to just be more entertaining. Besides, there's one year left." Tanith threw her arms over each of their shoulders in a companionable way, smirking. "And there are no two nutters I'd have rather spent my time with."

"Hey, Tanith, don't I get your love?" a fourth voice interrupted. "After all, aren't I the greater magnet for trouble in the first place? And didn't I introduce you to these two madmen? If it weren't for me, they'd be sitting on their own in here, without our dazzling company, drinking themselves into stupors."

"I don't see anything wrong with that, Gabe," Cal told the new arrival chirpily, raising his glass to him slightly.

Terry appeared hurriedly at the sight of another potential customer. Gabriel Doyle was the final member of the group of students who spent their holiday at Will Rayner's house, and, to be fair, he didn't look it. He looked older, with his dark hair in a longish style which was infinitely different to Tobias's obsessively neat hair, or Cal's short bristly crop, or Tanith's boyish cut. Like Tobias, he had odd eyes, but they didn't seem to be pretentiously from contact lenses – they were just naturally very, very disconcertingly dark.

Although Gabriel was obviously friends with the other three, the amount of time he spent alone doing whatever it was he did, and the way his companions easily accepted this without question or even comment, spoke of an interesting distance. Terry, having been a bartender for many years, was skilled enough at reading people to know that much at least.

"The usual, Mister Doyle?" he asked quickly, pointing to the bottle of Jack Daniel's. Gabriel, more than the other three, gave him the creeps. It was probably the eyes. He couldn't put his finger on what about the others made him edgy, but for Gabriel, a whole lot of it was in those dark orbs.

"Why not." Gabriel said, clapping Cal on the shoulder as he nodded towards their normal table in the corner. "It's time to celebrate. Someone's got to be able to cope with these three delinquents, but it just won't have to be me. I'll just have your whiskey, but with that fizzy drink… erm, a…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes met Cal's for a moment. The Welshman nodded encouragingly. "Coke?"

Terry frowned slightly, but didn't comment. "Right you are."

Tobias looked a little crestfallen. "I thought we were all going to do a top-shelfer tonight," he reminded Gabriel almost sulkily.

Gabriel laughed. "For the uptight sod that you are, you're certainly fond of your alcohol. Give me half a chance to catch my breath; I'm shattered after meandering around these bloody hills constantly."

Tobias and Tanith exchanged glances. "I guess we're going to have to wait a few minutes, then," the girl declared, putting her glass down, giving him a wry look.

"You were able to start when I wasn't here a few minutes ago," Gabriel pointed out, nodding again towards the table in the corner. "Come on, let's got sit somewhere I won't need to get out a telescope to talk to Tanith."

Terry watched them go with mixed feelings, picking up the dirty glass one of his other regulars had just finished off and refilling it wordlessly, easily anticipating the man's request. He couldn't say why, but he was really quite glad that those four had moved away from the bar. Truth be told, it took only the most determined of his customers to go up to order drinks when they sat there. And when he chatted to them about it, none of them could quite explain why.


	2. September 1st, 1994 – Fifth Year

**September 1st, 1994**** – Fifth Year**

Altair Ritter, handyman and bodyguard for Daedalus Cole and tutor to both of his daughters, had never before felt so uncertain on the day before a Hogwarts departure. He wasn't entirely sure exactly why this was – there lingered no tangible threat as there had the year before; one of his charges would be out of the way of any harm that might befall the school, and his faith in Hogwarts to maintain a suitable level of security was quite intact. But the fact remained that he had never before been so unwilling to see Tanith leave.

He knocked slowly at the door to the bedroom, hearing the clunking from within which denoted that she was either packing, or was in a foul mood and destroying her possessions. Maybe both. But when she didn't immediately shout abuse at him to go away, Ritter considered this to be a good enough sign to step into the room.

The Cole mansion was an old, draughty house which had seen a few too many years and ages of architecture to be cosy and comfortable. It was a house which looked impressive, spoke of years of breeding and sophistication, but wasn't really a place to call home.

Tanith hadn't even attempted to do so with her room. Most teenagers her age would have walls covered with posters of the Weird Sisters, or of Puddlemere United Quidditch team, or some such adolescent fascination. They wouldn't live in a room which still had portraits of respected ancestors above the four-poster bed. But Tanith did. It was how the room had been at her birth, and hadn't changed since.

In fact, the only note of personalisation in the bedroom was the vast amount of rubbish and random belongings strewn across the Persian carpet, and even that was in the process of being tidied as Tanith tore around the room, collecting it and throwing it into the large trunk in the corner which Ritter knew _he'd _have to carry to King's Cross tomorrow. And he couldn't even enjoy the luxury wizards could of using a lightening charm.

"Was the room blitzed in your absence, or do you always live in this sort of dedicated clutter?" Ritter asked dryly as he watched her go about her packing rampage. This, at least, had been the same year after year. His pupil had never been particularly good at preparing for the school year, and he could remember her indignation when she'd had to actually pack all of her own things for her first year at Hogwarts.

Tanith threw him the sort of respectful glower he fancied nobody else – barring Dumbledore or this Snape fellow he'd heard of – ever elicited from her. He knew it well. She was angry, ready to make a scathing comment, but didn't quite dare.

"Not everyone is as obsessively neat around here as you, Altair," she said as calmly and coolly as she could manage, fixing him with a look. He was quite proud of her – she hadn't yet learnt that a glare with her ice-cold mask was far more effective than her ranting and raving, but she seemed on her way to realising it.

"Merlin, I'll be glad when I can flick my wand and pack all this up here, like I can at Hogwarts," the girl continued, rubbing her temples as if putting away a few books, knick-knacks and items of clothing was the most strenuous thing on Earth.

"I'll be glad if you don't bother," Ritter replied, shrugging and keeping his hands clasped behind his back as he stood at the threshold to the room, not quite daring to interfere with Tanith's mess. "Using magic as a tool for even the most simple and basic of chores leads to over-reliance, the downfall of many a wizard I have met."

She paused, considering this as she stuffed her robes into the trunk, doubtless to emerge ridiculously creased some time later. "Yes, but I bet even you wouldn't say no to being able to flick a wand and have something tiresome completed in the blink of an eye."

Ritter managed to keep his expression emotionless. He knew her words had been intended as a simple comment, and so he staved off the slight pang they brought. "I would jump at the opportunity. I did not ask for my inability to cast even the simplest levitation charm."

Tanith seemed to realise her gaffe, because she lowered her eyes and didn't answer as she rummaged around in a drawer for something.

Ritter stepped forwards, pulling something from behind his back and holding it out to her. "You left your sketchbook out in the garden," he said simply, then smiled a little as her eyes widened in apprehension. "No, I made sure that your parents did not find it. My summer could be better spent than listening to your father rant about wanting his daughter to be spending her time in a more worthwhile endeavour than art." He shrugged. "Which I happen to think is very worthwhile."

Tanith took the book, a little pink-cheeked, and slid it into her trunk – underneath, he noted, a rather large and hefty pile of Transfiguration textbooks. "Yes, well… that's a conversation for another time. Besides, I don't know why he's so uptight about the idea of it; it's a hobby, not a career wish."

"It could be a career wish," Ritter assured her. "It's really very good. And I should know – Squibs spend their youth studying things other than Charms and Potions."

"Yes, but I didn't think art was on your curriculum." Tanith glanced up brightly, a little concern shining in her eyes. "I suppose you'll be returning to work, now that the summer's over?" she asked.

"With the developments at the World Cup, your father wants me to keep my ear to the ground. I think he'll be getting increasingly paranoid over the upcoming month, so I'd like to make sure that the fears remain as intangible as possible," Ritter said.

"He has a right to worry. He's not too popular with the Death Eaters." Again, that concerned look. "You _will _make sure him and Mum aren't in danger, won't you."

Ritter smiled slightly. "Of course. I've been doing it long enough to be quite competent at it indeed. I merely have the suspicion that the upcoming months will be interesting times for all of us. I expect to be away a lot."

"Will you be back for Christmas?" Tanith prompted.

His smile became rueful. "That shall not make any difference to you. I sincerely doubt that you'll be coming home for Christmas this year."

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why not?" Over the many years, Tanith seemed to have worked out exactly when her tutor was hiding something, which was becoming very irritating indeed – even if he was quite proud of her for developing this skill. She couldn't yet work out exactly _what _was going on, but her senses were enough that she could badger him very efficiently.

Ritter cast his eyes about the room, eventually glancing at the wardrobe. "Make sure you don't forget your dress robes," he said, not entirely evasively. "Your mother spent good money on them."

"I know; I heard Dad going on about it for weeks afterwards. Merlin knows why she bothered to fork out that much; Hogwarts isn't exactly a formal dress sort of place," Tanith sighed, heading for the wardrobe. Ritter noted that she hadn't challenged him as to _why _she'd need the dress robes – he realised that she had probably understood that the reason for his vague comment was linked to them.

"They may come in handy." He allowed himself a secretive smile – it would merely prompt her to become more curious about the whole thing, and as he wasn't supposed to actually know about it, he wasn't at liberty to tell her. But this didn't mean he wouldn't lay the clues down and try to get her to work it out for herself.

Tanith's elder sister, Evadne, had been a resistant student. She had been of the opinion that Squibs, like Altair Ritter, were sub-human and not worth her attention. She had tolerated the basic lessons he'd taught – the reading and writing skills that would serve her later in life and would not crop up at Hogwarts – just as he had tolerated teaching her, but they had never progressed from there.

Tanith herself had been different. Although her father had been quick to imbue her with the prejudices against Muggles and Muggle-borns, she also had some of the Ravenclaw open-mindedness of her mother, which was enough to get her to listen to Altair – who had seemed like a wise and powerful man in her youth. She had been attentive through his basic lessons – so attentive that he'd decided that he'd imbue her with a bit more wisdom than her sister had left with.

As a result, she had what Muggles would probably call a 'classical education' – not to mention the fact that Ritter had been ready to work day and night so that she would develop her personal skills enough to be able to cope with what life threw at her… without magic. This was why he revelled in these games of clues and hints as he left titbits for her to mull over and evaluate. He himself had survived in the wizarding world for his whole life without magic, and he would be damned if any student – any _attentive _student – of his own wasn't able to.

"I'm assuming that, apart from the World Cup, you spent your holiday fruitfully?" Ritter continued, moving down another path of conversation and knowing quite well that she was likely to have been busy most of the time doing absolutely nothing – and being happy about it.

"You could say that," Tanith muttered, having now moved to clear the rubbish out from underneath her massive four-poster bed. She emerged triumphantly a few minutes later with a Remembrall, which was glowing red furiously, and a small model of Kirley Duke, the bassist for the Weird Sisters, who glowered furiously at Ritter.

"Looking forward to going back?" In her distracted state, conversation was a little harder than usual, as he tended to rely on the animated Tanith in keeping discussion active.

She shrugged. "As much as usual. It'll be fun, I don't doubt." There was a pause, and she grimaced. "But this year we get to enjoy the wonders of the OWLs. Teachers will be breathing down our necks, deadlines will be ticking, students will be stressed, and Tobias Grey will be the most frantic fool anyone's ever encountered."

Ritter's mouth twisted into a smirk as he remembered the studious boy he'd met in the summer of Tanith's second year. He had seemed like the sort to get fairly frantic over something like the OWLs. "I'm sure you'll manage to find some way to keep yourselves entertained."

"I thought baiting a frantic Tobias Grey sounded quite entertaining myself," Tanith mused wryly as she pushed down on her trunk to shove the contents in a bit more so that she could actually close the lid.

"Here; I'll do that," Ritter said, moving forwards and slamming the lid shut, holding it down with his weight as he fiddled with the latch. "We'll need to be going in about a half-hour. I honestly don't know why you leave your packing to the last minute."

Tanith smiled a deceptively sweet smile that spoke of forgotten homework, misplaced quills and botched assignments. It was a smile he knew well. "After being away for a sizeable portion of the summer, I didn't think it would be too unreasonable to want to spend the few evenings I've had at home with my family?"

Ritter snorted, smirking and shaking his head as he stood up. On some terms, he never expected to beat his pupil – like excuses that were all sweetness and light. "Have you said goodbye to the horses? It's been a while since you've spent much time with them."

Tanith did look a bit gloomy at this. "And about a year until I do, provided you're not pulling my leg about Christmas." She cast him a discreet sideways glance. "Well, there's always Easter," she continued, stepping towards the window in her bedroom, which gave a glorious view of the grounds of the Cole estate under the cool light of the morning. In the fields just beyond the extensive garden lay the stables, and beyond them the Aethonan winged horses her father bred frolicked freely behind a wall of Muggle-deflection charms. Flying mammals tended to cause a bit of anxiety amongst the local populace if not suitably hidden.

There was a long pause as they watched, the morning sun streaming in through the windows and making the now-barren bedroom look a lot fuller than it usually did. Altair knew how empty and devoid of life the room would look that evening – if he didn't know better, he'd never believe that someone actually lived there.

"Maybe I should go down there," Tanith said at last with a nod. "I've got half an hour, that's plenty of time to… ah…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes fixed on the trunk slowly, and her expression sank a little.

Ritter smiled slightly, then moved to open up the trunk and – miraculously avoiding having to unpack everything else – extricated her sketch book, passing it to her quickly. "Go on. You'll get frantic otherwise," he said gently.

As she grinned back at him before hurrying out the door, Altair sighed to himself. That had probably been the longest conversation they'd had all summer – and such, all year. His pupil was growing up, and although he felt he'd prepared _her _for that, he wasn't too sure he'd prepared himself.

The tutor, mentor, bodyguard and odd-job man for the Cole house shook his head wryly, knowing he was getting soft, and stepped lightly out of the room. Daedalus Cole would doubtless be expecting a report on the Ministry's examination of the World Cup incident, and sources didn't inform him without prodding.

§

"Where in Hades is he?" Tobias demanded, looking anxiously around Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, shifting his feet uncomfortably and almost hopping up and down from worry. "It's five to eleven. I know he likes to make a dramatic appearance, but this is really taking the…"

"He'll be here," Tanith assured him calmly, swatting him lightly on the arm. "Doyle may be a prat, but he's not enough of a fool to think that the Express is actually going to wait for him. He probably just got stuck in another argument with his father."

"Sounds like Gabe. But even his father wouldn't keep him from getting to the station on time. He'd just argue with him all the way, running alongside the leaving train to get the last word in," Cal pointed out, sounding reassuring yet worried at the same time. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes flickered from the station to the train to the clock. "We'd better get on board, otherwise the train's going to be leaving without _us_, either."

"He's right," Tobias said unhappily. "It wouldn't be a good start to the year to need to get a Portkey up north. Besides, Professor Snape would have our guts for garters if he had to arrange alternate transport…"

"Especially for his two new prefects," Cal said wryly, smirking a little. "You'd better get up to the Prefects' carriage, anyway. I'll grab a seat; Gabe will turn up, just you see. He's always got to make a fuss about his arrival. Needs to have all eyes on him."

Tanith nodded, yanking Tobias's sleeve as he failed to react and continued to stare at the entrance to the platform, as if he could make Gabriel appear through sheer force of will. "He's right. Come on; we don't want to give the idiots any more of reasons to mock Slytherins, and being late will be one." The train gave a whistle, and her eyes widened. "Plus, I'd rather not have to throw myself onto a moving train, if that's all the same to you!"

Tobias moved hurriedly, yanking along his heavy trunk and the small cage his cat, Tiberius, was trapped in. Tibs was mewing and yowling incessantly, as if knowing that he was running late and trying to encourage him to hurry up. They found their way to one of the doors up on to the train, and hefted their luggage up after them, Tobias given the extra challenge of hefting Tanith's trunk along with his own and an irate cat.

Tanith was looking around intently as he almost collapsed onto a heap in the floor after lugging what felt like twenty stone onto the train, even as the train gave another whistle and began to move. "See? Move quicker," she chastised him, swatting him lightly around the head as she took her trunk and set off in a direction towards the front of the train, hardly waiting for him as he dealt with what felt like a hernia.

"Will you _stop _hitting me?" Tobias said, exasperated as he tugged his only slightly lighter load after her and tried to not knock the cat cage into any walls or passing students. Couldn't they wait in their compartments whilst people were moving around? Did they all have to be so damned inconsiderate?

He regretted that Tanith had chosen this particular route through the train, as it seemed to take them right in the middle of where what appeared to be every Gryffindor in the school was congregated. Being the friend of the noticeable and not particularly amiable Gabriel Doyle definitely meant that Tobias was recognised by some of the older students, and whilst the more reasonable, like fifth year Richard Keating, nodded at him in a non-hostile way, he found himself forced to grit his teeth and watch his balance as sixth year feet were pushed in his way in an attempt to trip up a well-known Slytherin.

Tanith, of course, was untouched. Ever since she'd hexed Nick Wilson into a babbling mess of boils and pus two years ago, the Gryffindors knew not to mess with her. The worst she ever got was the sharp tongue of a few of the Gryffindor fifth year girls, but everyone knew that in a battle of words she could quite easily hold her own – and indeed, tended to conquer all in the process.

Eventually, they pushed their way through the crowd, Tobias having opened Tiberius' cage along the way to make his moving about easier. The small grey and black tabby had leapt up to his shoulder, hissing at anyone who made a hostile move towards his master, but also sinking his claws into Tobias's skin in the process. So he was very glad when they finally reached the prefect's carriage, wincing and stumbling and looking already a bit of a mess, but still in one piece.

Tanith glanced over to give him an impatient look. "Come _on_, Tobias. Do you always have to keep messing around like this? We're just going to make fools of ourselves," she said, grabbing him by the shoulder Tibs hadn't settled onto and yanking him into the nearest empty compartment.

"Yes, Mistress," Tobias mumbled, wondering for a long moment how he'd managed to find anything appealing in Tanith when she bossed him around and manhandled him like that. She was the only person who'd ever got away with such treatment of him, and whilst he dealt with it resentfully, he knew he didn't actually stop her.

As they reached the seats and Tanith waited as he hefted their luggage onto the overhead racks – for the first time, Tobias wishing he hadn't been made a prefect, as she usually got the stronger Gabriel and Cal to do these bits – then sat down, she glanced around a little impatiently. "Do you know who the other prefects in the year are?" she asked, having the sense to be a little discreet as she spoke.

Tobias paused, casting his memory back to what had been written on the piece of paper stowed in his trunk he had no intention of getting out right then. "In Gryffindor… it's Everard and Riley. Ravenclaw… Sharpe and Chang. Hufflepuff… O'Neal and Grahams," he said at last, concentrating hard for a few seconds as he remembered, reaching out with a hand to stroke Tiberius as the cat lunged for his lap and sat down.

Tanith nodded, considering this. "So… the least bastard-y people of the year. And the least annoying Gryffindors. Someone made the right decision when it came to the assignments. This might not be as hellish a job as I'd thought."

Tobias raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you were over the moon about this and looking forward to ruling supreme now you have been given all of the authority you had ever deserved; now you are in your rightful position above others?" he said dryly, smirking slightly.

She gave him a long, tempering look, and he subsided a little – still smirking. "I just mean that we might have a hard time of things," she elaborated vaguely. "Like with how we had a hard time just moving through the Gryffindor carriage…" He looked at her sternly, and she rolled her eyes. "Alright, _you _had a hard time moving through the Gryffindor carriage. We might have been given the jobs as the least objectionable Slytherins in the year, but you know what the rest of the house thinks of us."

"The rest of the house thinks we're decent people who are good alternatives to the more… noticeable idiots in the year," Tobias said, blinking and shrugging a bit. "We won't have any trouble in our own house."

"Except for with those idiots."

"A few detentions and some docked points should sort them out. And if you find me beaten up in a broom closet on the third floor, I'm sure you can guess that it'll be Ed Montague's fault, so make sure you avenge me, okay?"

Tanith rolled her eyes. "So you're saying that we won't have any trouble with the people in our house who don't make trouble in the first place? Great reasoning there. We'll have some work to do to keep Slytherins in line."

"And the rest of the school. After all, we are Slytherins, and thus Evil Incarnate," Tobias agreed, rolling his eyes. There was a long silence as he thought for a few seconds, scratching his chin. "You think that Gabriel's turned up, or is Cal right now being forced to sit with Bletchley, Pucey and Montague?"

Tanith shrugged. "He'll be fine. He always was the amiable one. They can talk about Quidditch."

Tobias grimaced. "Yeah… you know, with Cal trying to ingratiate himself with Montague so as he's let back on the team." He rolled his eyes. "You know that Welshman has all the subtlety of an ox."

"As opposed to your good self, of course, Grey," Tanith mused dryly, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried – and failed – to remain deadpan.

"Of course." Tobias winked at her. "No, he'll probably be fine if Gabriel's not there. He'll just find himself with a lifelong ban from the Slytherin Quidditch team from trying to ingratiate himself too much."

Tanith sagged. "He'll then be whining at us forever, won't he? About how he'll never get to play professionally if he's not on a house team, about how it's all political… God, it's enough to make me want to start my own team just so he can play and will shut up," she groaned, rubbing her eyes.

"Just blackmail Montague onto letting him on the team. Or Warrington. It's going to be one of those two who ends up as captain," Tobias said with certainty. "And he has a similar chance – i.e. nil – on getting on the team with either one of them. Now, if it was Bletchley, who's a whole lot more reasonable and doesn't actually like that prat Malfoy, Cal would probably now be a shoo-in with Boyle and Derrick gone."

Tanith snorted. "It all comes down to Draco, doesn't it. If Cal hadn't given Flint that ultimatum after Draco's first crap game…"

"What did he expect? For the team, it wasn't a question of 'him or Malfoy', it was 'him or these excellent new brooms'. Flint may be a bastard, but he's not an idiot." Tobias rolled his eyes. "Cal's problem is that he tries to have it both ways. He tries to keep the peace on all sides. He tries to be a decent Slytherin whilst being friendly with the prats. It just doesn't work."

"Unless your name's Gabriel Doyle," Tanith pointed out.

Tobias's face twitched a little. "Somewhat. But even Gabe… well, he rather defies definition in the Slytherin social structure. _Neither _side has or wants him. He is a man unto himself."

A head popped through the doorway, and they both jumped suddenly to see Tom Everard looking at them inquisitively. "Ah-hah. Good, it's you two. I was afraid Snape would appoint Montague and Larkin, just to make our lives miserable," the new Gryffindor prefect declared, with a touch of relief.

Tanith snorted derisively. "Melanie Larkin couldn't prefect her way out of a paper bag, and Montague's little more than a thug."

Tobias looked at her. "'Prefect' isn't a verb," he pointed out slowly.

"It's an expression, Grey!"

"No, you just made it up on the spot…"

Everard blinked. "I see. Well, you two obviously have issues… maybe I should leave you to it," he said hesitantly, drawing back a little to the compartment opposite, where Jennifer Riley of Gryffindor and Connor O'Neal and Lisa Grahams of Hufflepuff were sitting.

"No, wait." Tobias half-rose. "How come Wilson or Harding didn't get the prefect position?" he asked. Nick Wilson and Andy Harding were other Gryffindor boys, and had for two years been the Slytherins' effective nemeses until they'd come to a vague understanding – now they just generally disliked each other.

Everard blinked. "Because I'm _better _than them," he explained simply, shrugging and smirking before he returned to his compartment, nodding in a vaguely friendly way as he disappeared from sight and returned to his conversation.

Tanith was grinning as Tobias looked back at her. "See? The Houses aren't as different as we'd been thinking. There are the arrogant prats in every single house; you've just met your counterpart, Grey," she said smugly.

Tobias rolled his eyes at her. "You're such a delightful, thoughtful friend, aren't you, Tanith?" he said, looking amused and a little put out all at once.

"I know, I'm wonderful," she replied easily, waving a hand dismissively. "Aren't you so glad to have me?" She grinned as Tobias made a vague, non-committal grunt, and sat up straight. "I'm starving. This trip's always far too bloody long."

"We've got a long way to go. Apparently. For all we know, Hogwarts could be in Sussex and we just go round in circles for six hours," Tobias said, glancing out the window. He knew that in a few hours they'd be passing hills and fields which would speak more of the Peak District and Derbyshire than Southern England. Most theories placed Hogwarts in Scotland, but these theories had never been proven.

"Just waiting for the cart," Tanith replied, throwing him a scathing look. "I have an intense desire for some chocolate, very soon."

"Uh-oh…" Tobias grinned, then threw himself to the side, raising his arms over his head protectively. "Chocolate cravings… never a good sign. Just waiting for the mood-swings next, then it's Armageddon…"

She swatted him on the knee as he sat up normally, smirking his usual smirk, and rolled her eyes. "Have you ever not had this annoying sense of humour? It's even bloody worse than when you get all sarcastic."

Tobias's eyes widened. "Sarcastic? Me? Never!"

Tanith nodded, still seeming amused but also with a slightly more serious look behind her eyes. "Yes, you. You're sarcastic, you're arrogant, and it would take a thousand and one hexes – or a near-death situation – for you to open up to anyone."

He stopped, looking less amused as he regarded her. "That's a bit hypocritical of you. You're hardly the most forthcoming person ever," he said soberly, seeming a bit put-out and even indignant by her accusation.

"Never as bad as you," she countered. "There are times, in four years, when it seems like I hardly know you."

Tobias blinked, surprised. "Really?" He'd had no idea she felt like that. "No, I don't wear my heart on my sleeve like Cal, but when standing next to Gabriel I'm sure I look positively outgoing and candid!"

Tanith paused, considering this. "Yes… but there are times when Doyle is a law unto himself. And times when I consider him to be more of an acquaintance than a friend," she said delicately. "You're a friend, always."

"I can't say I usually expect you to be this frank," Tobias said, a little evasively. He knew he could be a bit… secretive. But only to the extent that he didn't feel the need to tell the world of every little thought or consideration he ever had – he didn't think this made him as clammed up as Gabriel.

Tanith looked at him for a long moment, then shook her head and raised her hands. "You know what? Forget it," she said, seeming fairly resolute.

"What? No, you're blathering… what do you mean?"

Tanith seemed torn for a few moments, evidently approaching a subject which could possibly be fairly difficult to discuss with him, but not seeming to know how to deflect the situation. "Never mind… it's just…"

"Just what?" Tobias asked sharply.

"Grey? Cole?" The new Head Boy, a Ravenclaw named Bridges, had suddenly appeared at the door to their compartment, apparently quite aware that he'd interrupted something. He shuffled the papers in his hands quite nervously, and cleared his throat. "I have… your directions for your new jobs here." He smiled a watery smile, scratching at his slightly overly large nose. "You'll have to… you know, do the usual stuff; escort first years to the dorms when we get there, patrol the corridors along the way…"

Tobias sagged, and did his best to not glare at Bridges when the Head Boy passed him the sheets of paper he'd been clutching. No doubt Tanith would after this drag him into a conversation about something else entirely and he'd never be able to discuss this slightly worrying subject again unless she brought it up. Whatever the hell was going on.

§

Cal rested his head against the window of the compartment, raising a hand to his eyes to try to block the reflection of the bright inside of the train as he peered through the darkness ahead of them. "I think I see Hogwarts," he declared delightedly at last.

Adrian Pucey and Edmund Montague looked up from where they were still struggling into their robes, those of the broad-shouldered Montague particularly tight around his increasingly bulky frame and those of the short, skinny and gaunt Pucey hanging off his lanky form.

"Really?" Montague grunted. Although Cal himself was particularly well-built, the fact that Slytherin seemed to be the House of Thugs meant that his physique wasn't all that particular, and all he had to pride himself on was the fact that he didn't look like an oversized gorilla as a result.

"No, I'm sure he's lying, Monty," Pucey sighed, rolling his slightly large eyes in a way that made him look more crazy than exasperated. "Or hallucinating." He peered at Cal. "You did have an awfully large number of those purple Beanie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and you know what they're like…" He tapped the side of his head, smirking. "Make you see things, they do…"

"Uh… sure, yeah. Whatever," Cal replied casually shrugging. He was used to these two. "But I'm not hallucinating. Castle's right over there, see?" he said as Pucey went to the window and stuck his head out, as if wanting to make sure that the Welshman's ranting wasn't the result of Bean Poisoning.

"He's right, you know, Monty," Pucey said, glancing over at Montague, who had started to crack his knuckles impatiently. Cal supposed that he was restless after being forced to make conversation with the intellectually superior – in his opinion – Cal and the slightly eccentric Pucey. Especially with prefects patrolling the corridors

Montague grunted. "Guess you'll be free of us soon, then," he said, raising his bushy eyebrows to fix Cal with his rather Neanderthal-like gaze. "Get to go back to your two poncy friends… and where _is _Doyle, anyway?"

Cal shrugged, not passing comment on Montague's insulting of Tobias and Tanith. He knew what fights to pick, and fights with people Montague's size – especially people Montague's size who were liable to be the next Quidditch team captains and _should _get him a place – weren't a good idea.

"Dunno, mate," he said instead, yawning and tugging slightly at his robes to straighten them up. "You know Gabe, mind. He likes to be dramatic. He'll probably turn up halfway through dinner on a flying train, or something…"

"You don't get flying trains," Pucey said absently from where he was still standing by the window, as if he could will the train to reach Hogwarts sooner by staring at the castle constantly. "But he might have got a flying carpet… I always wanted one of those… pity they're illegal…"

"Hey, his dad's head of the Department of Magical Transportation. You're telling me he can't get himself a magic carpet?" Cal said, grinning.

"He could get me one," Pucey mumbled. "I could fly on a magic carpet… to see the king of the potato people…"

Montague rolled his eyes. "Christ, don't get him started," he groaned, standing and yanking Pucey down into his seat. "Snap out of it, you daft wizard," he said, swatting his companion solidly around the ear.

Cal blinked, but wasn't too surprised. Adrian Pucey had been fairly weird ever since his third year at Hogwarts, when he'd got himself whacked around the head by the Whomping Willow at a Quidditch practice. It was, Cal claimed, a testament to Flint's stupidity that he'd fly a crazy person over a perfectly sane one, and all on the instructions of that little rat Draco Malfoy.

The train whistled, and Cal stood, glad to escape Montague and the clearly slightly odd Pucey as soon as possible. He idly wondered if it was a good idea to keep hitting someone who was already a bit dodgy, but assumed Montague hadn't quite thought all of this through.

He stood quickly and stepped out of the compartment, seeing some of his housemates also hurrying towards the door. Ariane Drake and Melanie Larkin, the final two Slytherins in his year, stepped out of the adjacent compartment. They'd popped by a few times during the trip along with Miles Bletchley, mostly to talk to Montague and Pucey rather than him, but seeing Cal on his own seemed to knock them into a fit of giggles which just left the Welshman shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he neatly hopped off the train. Girls. At least Tanith didn't lose the capacity for thought and laugh at him randomly like that – well, if she did, she was probably sniggering at something stupid he or Tobias had done. He could see why she had boys for best friends.

"Speak of the devil," he mumbled under his breath as he spotted his two prefect friends descending from their carriage, Tanith ranting at Tobias for something he'd either done or hadn't done – whichever; it was easy to irritate Tanith – and heading for a nearby horseless carriage to take them up to the castle. It was raining ridiculously heavily, though neither of his friends seemed to notice this; Tobias was doubtless too harassed, and Tanith was too busy harassing.

Cal glanced around, unconsciously still searching for Gabriel – he'd need some sort of moral support now the other two would be doing prefect things together – but the endless pouring rain and a shout behind from Pucey ("Montague! You are so _aggravating_!") galvanised him into action, and he strode along, dragging his trunk behind him and almost knocking people over with it as he moved.

"Wouldn't like to be the first-years, crossing the lake in this weather, hey?" Cal said jovially as he hopped onto the carriage the other two had settled in, lugging his trunk behind him and settling down next to Tobias.

Tanith chuckled. "God, reminds me of our first year. The weather's just as bad," she sighed, glancing out the window to where that oversized groundskeeper, Hagrid, was herding the first-years along.

Cal sniggered, and elbowed Tobias. "The wind howling around our ears, spray in our faces, Gabriel whooping like an idiot and this prat here screaming as if his death was looming on the horizon…"

Tobias fixed him with an evil glare. "In case you didn't notice, Cal, death _was _looming on the horizon. That was an absolutely insane trip, and the only reason I'm not going to argue with you is because I'll get to make myself feel better about the whole thing by yelling at first-years who'll be just as traumatised as I was." He smirked. "Builds character."

Cal leant forwards towards Tanith. "He's not going to argue with me because he knows I'm right," he stage whispered, and Tanith laughed out loud, prompting Tobias to make a large, derisive sniff and stare out the window at the castle. Cal wasn't too concerned – he wouldn't be really offended, just messing around.

True enough, Tobias looked up after a few minutes, seeming concerned. "Still no sign of Gabe?" he asked, frowning.

Cal shook his head, equally worried. "Not a sausage. If he wants to be dramatic, then he's looking to be _really _dramatic. It might even be overkill. Nobody likes a ham actor, and this just takes the cake."

Tanith glared at him. "Shut up… you're making me hungry," she groaned. "Thank God Dumbledore lets us eat before we get the big speeches… but we have to wait through the bloody Sorting all over again. I swear, they should do that on the boats…"

"Yeah, with the wind whistling in their hair, people throwing up over the side and the giant squid to sing along in harmony with the Sorting Hat," Tobias retorted dryly, and they spent a few seconds chuckling over this mental image.

"There'll be fresh blood for Slytherin," Tobias continued eventually, still smirking at this bit. "We'll have to induct them properly. You know…"

Tanith sighed. "Grey, you cannot convert an entire year of Slytherins into not being bastards when they're going to have constant contact with the likes of Montague, Warrington and Pucey day after day."

"Pucey isn't a bastard," Cal said, shaking his head. "He's just slightly weird."

"Yeah. Like Lucius Malfoy is slightly rich," Tanith retorted.

Tobias leant forwards. "But don't you get it, Tanith? This is our chance to… change things. We have the new authority, new respect, new chances to make Slytherin house something… great…"

Cal glanced at Tanith. "He was like this all on the train, wasn't he…"

She nodded. "Yep. And just as annoying."

Tobias glared. "I'm still here, you know."

Tanith smirked at him. "Well, so you are!" As he sighed with frustration, she sat up and fixed him with a look. "Grey, I sympathise with you, I really do. God knows I agree with you. But with people far more influential than us who don't have our… God, though I hate to say it, _morals_… we can't do much."

Cal nodded, shrugging. "Hate to say it, mate, but she's right. I mean, face it, Snape's head of our house, and he's hardly the paragon of virtue and justice and all that crap. Hardly a good sort of impression."

Tobias waved his hands in the air irritably. "I don't _want _us to be the paragons of virtue and justice, fighting evil for goodness, honour, and small fluffy puppies. It sounds like a crappy deal. Only the good die young."

"Which is why we should tolerate the Gryffindors," Tanith interrupted, winking at Cal. "They'll snuff it by the time they're twenty."

Tobias glared at them. "I just… you know, I'd like it if, for once, we could have a Quidditch season where the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws weren't all supporting Gryffindor, because they'd rather see anyone win but us. I'd like to not get tripped over on the train just because I'm a Slytherin, and a Slytherin prefect to boot – therefore I must be a gimp. I'd like…"

"A million Galleons!" Cal chuckled, shaking his head. Although he sympathised with his friend, he didn't take it too seriously. Tobias was an idealist, a dreamer, who wanted the impossible and was stupid enough to fight for it.

He exchanged a concerned glance with Tanith as Tobias scowled and returned his attention to the blustery outdoors. Tanith would agree with Tobias – as she often did on the serious things, just as she tended to agree with Cal on the more superficial matters – but wouldn't take his ranting to heart. She tended to pity him a bit for it, just as Cal laughed at it.

There wasn't much time for Tobias to keep up his mock-sulking, however, as the carriages soon came to a quick halt in front of the main doors leading to the castle. They would abandon their luggage here for it to be taken to their dormitories – and in the meantime, try to dash through the pouring rain into the school and avoid a soaking, now they had dried off slightly under the cover of the carriages.

Cal pushed the door open. "Ugh. Merlin, just look at it out there," he groaned, glancing at his two friends, who looked just as unenthused. "Right, right… on the count of three, we make a dash for it."

There was a pause as they all inspected the weather and the slippery stairs, looking dubious.

"One…" Tanith elbowed Tobias, then grinned evilly and lunged out of the carriage, hurtling pell-mell up the stairs towards the doors, just ahead of everyone else.

Cal cursed and rolled his eyes. "Impatient woman. "Two, three." He hadn't expected Tobias to grab him by the back of the neck, pull him away from the door, and leap out himself, but his lanky friend did, making a similar path to Tanith through the rain.

Cal swore again, hopping out after him, his speedy legs catching up with Tobias' longer ones, and they jostled each other up the stairs, almost knocking some second years over, before hurtling into the entrance hall, glaring at each other in a way which was probably friendly.

Tanith sniffed derisively, looking surprisingly dry. "Foolish boys. You haven't learnt yet to break the rules?"

Tobias grinned. "I bent them."

"You nearly throttled me," Cal mumbled sulkily, but didn't have much of a chance to complain more elaborately, as he was then rudely interrupted by a bright blue balloon dropping from above his head and landing to drench him in water,

Peeves cackled manically as he soared over head, and Cal realised with a dripping feeling that he should have noticed the poltergeist's actions when he'd first arrived – he had obviously not been the first victim.

Tanith and Tobias both grabbed him by the elbow and hurried towards the door, the former laughing loudly as a group of Gryffindor girls – led by Jennifer Riley, the fifth year prefect – were hit by one of Peeves' attacks. It would be best to withdraw to a warm Great Hall, rather than linger and suffer the poltergeist's water bombs.

"Ugh," Cal mumbled as they finally erupted into the Great Hall, amongst the first to be there. "I didn't think it was possible for me to get any wetter… evidently, I was wrong… bloody Peeves…"

"At least he got the Gryffindors," Tanith commented brightly, directing the other two towards the Slytherin table with her. "Can't criticise him for that."

"I think he can when Peeves doesn't discriminate in whom he torments," Tobias observed wryly. While Cal was absolutely soaking wet, Tobias was merely a little damp, courtesy of the rain. In contrast, Tanith was inexplicably bone dry, and looked more as if she'd just had a casual wander through the sunny grounds rather then hurtled pell-mell in the rain and then been forced to dodge a poltergeist's water balloons.

"And I'm hungry," Cal said dolefully, looking at the empty plate as the rest of the Great Hall began to fill up. "You think they'll hurry up with the Sorting?"

"Probably," Tanith said. "I mean, going across the lake in this weather… how many first-years do you think drowned?"

"Enough to reduce the number needed to be Sorted," Tobias said hopefully, pouring himself a goblet of water from one of the pitchers on the table – the only food or drink available. For some odd reason, Cal didn't rather feel like having any more water in sight.

Cal's disinclination to see water was rather rudely ignored as the doors to the Great Hall were then thrown open, and Professor McGonagall strode in with a horde of first-years at her heels. If Cal was soaked, then the eleven year-olds were inundated.

"Yeah, yeah, they're short, they belong in houses, get on with it," Tanith mumbled under her breath next to him, and Cal, his stomach rumbling, was more than slightly inclined to agree with her.

He watched as McGonagall moved off to get the Sorting Hat, and fixed his eyes on his plate. He didn't care about this. Right then, all he could think about was how cold, wet, hungry and absolutely bloody miserable he was. This was not the return to Hogwarts he had hoped and dreamt of.

Cal was vaguely aware of the Sorting Hat having started its song, but he had more to keep his attention right then. Tobias, he could see, was listening with the same sort of quiet thoughtfulness he regarded everything around him with – annoying at the time, occasionally useful if something was needed to be recalled. Tanith was resting her head in her hand and looked about as occupied with the Sorting as Adrian Pucey generally was with his mental health.

And Gabriel Doyle was nowhere to be found. Cal had a rather sick sense of déjà vu. The last time Gabe had missed the train and a Sorting Ceremony, he'd been trying to get out of being expelled. What if he'd stepped over the line again? What if he'd been stupid enough to drop himself in trouble, with no favours to pull him out again? Gabriel was quite capable of doing so…

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

Cal raised his head, jerked out of his reverie, as the first child of the new year became a Ravenclaw. He applauded politely with the rest, not really paying attention.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

This _was _a cause for him to become more attentive, as the Baddock boy was declared the first Slytherin of the new year. As his house-mates broke out into even louder applause, Cal joined them, hearing Montague let out a loud, bright cheer of support. For some reason, Tobias's expression stiffened as he stared across the hall.

"What is it?" Cal asked discreetly, leaning forwards. Tanith seemed to have also noticed Tobias's look, and shifted forwards too.

"The Gryffindors," Tobias explained quietly.

"What about them? Pulling faces? Being general gits?" Tanith said with her usual casualness – but there was a tightening of her jaw that meant she was ready to put stock in whatever Tobias said.

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"Not that. Their reaction to Baddock," Tobias said, glancing down the table at where the first-year was being clapped on the back by Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, of the fourth year.

"_Hufflepuff_!"

Cal applauded, probably in a move of Welsh solidarity, then fixed Tobias with a glare. "What about their reaction to Baddock?" he asked testily. Tobias was quite capable of drawing things out.

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tobias shifted uncomfortably. "They… well… they _bood _him."

"_Gryffindor_!"

The table at the far end that was the cause of their attention and consternation exploded into raucous cheering. Cal watched as Tobias's lip curled in disdain.

"That's normal, isn't it?" Tanith said, shrugging. "They boo all Slytherins."

"It just…" Tobias looked pained briefly. "Never mind. I'll explain in a minute," he hissed, as McGonagall turned her icy glare towards them.

They sat through the rest of the Sorting in silence, the only interruption being Tobias's muttering as he glared at the Gryffindor table with every Slytherin appointed, and Cal's growling stomach. Finally, as "Whitby, Kevin!" became a Hufflepuff, McGonagall took away the Sorting Hat and Dumbledore stood up.

"He'd better not talk for long, or I'll end up eating _him_," a hungry Cal mumbled to Tanith, squirming in his seat. She swatted him to stay quiet.

"I have only two words to say to you," Dumbledore declared, eyes twinkling as his gaze took in the entire Great Hall. "_Tuck in_."

"Thank _Merlin_," Cal sighed, groaning in ecstasy as the dishes before them loaded up with food and almost upending the entire dishful of roast pork onto his plate. "I'm absolutely _starving_."

"Really. You don't say," Tobias commented dryly, neatly helping himself to the roast potatoes. "I don't think I heard you go on about it the last million times."

Tanith gave them both impatient glares, then fixed her eyes on Tobias. "Grey, stop being clever. What were you rambling about during the Sorting? Gryffindors being their usual open and cheerful selves?"

"Yeah," Cal said, looking up from his plate, which was now swimming in gravy. "Since when was Gryffindor booing Slytherins anything new? We do the same to them."

"But booing a first-year Slytherin, who's just been Sorted?" Tobias challenged. "Yes, I'm _sure_ he's bullied them for years. I'm _sure_ he's a junior Death Eater in training. I'm _sure_ he's evil incarnate." He leant towards his two friends. "Five minutes ago, they would have looked at that kid the same way they would have looked at the kid that just became a Gryffindor. And now, he's scum. Because a hat decided he was cunning and driven." He picked at his Yorkshire Pudding unhappily.

"Oh, don't now go on hunger strike as a result, Grey," Tanith groaned, rolling her eyes. "I somehow doubt it will encourage the Gryffindors to stop bullying Slytherins."

Tobias smiled ruefully, and shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed quickly, then nodded. "I suppose. And the Slytherins can take care of themselves. The Gryffindors emerge worse off." He sighed. "It's just… he's a kid. He's a first-year, who was no different to any of them a few minutes ago. I bet some of them sat in the same compartment as him, and shared their pumpkin pasties with him. Now he's a Slytherin, none of those Gryffindors are going to become chummy, are they."

"I don't know," Cal said, shrugging. "You're mates with Keating, aren't you?"

"We're not _mates_," Tobias replied, frowning with slight consternation. "We're acquaintances. We chat occasionally, and don't kill each other when a face-off occurs. I keep my wrath for Wilson and Harding." He smiled thinly. "Besides, Tanith here would kill me if I were friends with a Gryffindor."

"Nope," Tanith said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't. I'd just look at you and tell you that you could do better than being friendly with those rabid fools. And glare a bit." She smirked and winked at him, popping a roast potato in his mouth.

Tobias shifted a little, and seemed to be stopped mid-way through his rant. Cal sighed with relief – Tobias's Great Causes never seemed to go anywhere fast, and Tanith was usually the only one who could stop him.

Cal was fortunately able to then shift the topics to their OWLs – which was only easier to cope with because Tobias would ramble and he and Tanith were free to snooze – and, hardly noticing that for once Tanith was paying attention to Tobias's every study-crazed word, Cal allowed his mind to wander.

It was only when Dumbledore stood up again that Cal tuned in, and then only half-heartedly. He could talk to Montague easily… express with certainty that he had no personal issues with Malfoy anymore – that he didn't _care _how the brat played, just as long as he, Cal, could get on a broom and fly on the Quidditch pitch once more… Derrick and Bole were long gone. There _was _nobody he could replace them with. He just had to play Quidditch again…

"Quidditch…"

Cal was jerked out of his reverie as the word on his mind was spoken by Dumbledore, and for some reason it had triggered a sort of mute horror around the room. He blinked, and quickly tried to replay the last few seconds where he hadn't been paying attention.

"_It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year_."

And suddenly, all of Cal's carefully-laid plans imploded as his eyes widened and the words sank in. He turned to Tanith. "He… didn't just say… what I thought he said, did he? I imagined it… it's lack of food followed by then stuffing your face…"

Tanith shook her head. "No… he said it." Even Tobias, who didn't care about Quidditch, looked stunned.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October," Dumbledore continued, even though Cal didn't feel to inclined to listen to him, "and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –"

Then the door to the Great Hall was thrown open, and Quidditch, food, Gryffindors, and Dumbledore flew from Cal's attention with the arrival of Mad-Eye Moody.


	3. November 7th, 1992 – Third Year

**November 7th, 1992**** – Third Year**

"But we _lost_, you idiots!" Cal Brynmor ranted at Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey, right in the middle of the Slytherin Common Room, providing an amazing amount of entertainment for all of his housemates, who regarded the unfolding drama with the sort of attentiveness one tried to hide. After all, Slytherin's defeat at Quidditch was something they were all trying to forget – but apparent incoming reform of the team was worth paying attention to.

"Just once. And just because it's Potter. We'll take out Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw damn easily," Flint said, shrugging in what would have been an exaggerated manner were it not for his already massive size. "We have better brooms than them."

"And a worse damn team!" Cal snapped. "The Snitch was _right _in front of Malfoy's _face_, and he _still _failed to grab it! You think Diggory will perform any worse than Potter if Malfoy flies like that? Or Chang?"

"Are you the captain of this team, Brynmor?" Flint asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Because I think that I can make the right decisions to get us through the cup. We won last year, didn't we?"

"That was only because Potter was out of action and so Ravenclaw clobbered Gryffindor! If Potter had been in action, then Gryffindor would have flown the same as they had in the previous two games and won supremely, and you _know _it!" Cal declared, beginning to pace and throwing a rueful glance in the direction of his captive audience, the entirety of Slytherin in general and Gabriel, Tanith and Tobias in particular.

"But we still won the cup."

"And back then, we had Terence Higgs, who caught the Snitch two out of three times."

"So? Potter's good. Malfoy didn't out-fly him, there's not much shame in that," Pucey said quietly, stepping around the captain. "He can catch the Snitch against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, I'm absolutely sure. And we have the new brooms."

"You two are beginning to sound like botched recording charms," Cal mumbled bitterly, whirling around to face them. "Good brooms don't make a good team, and you two both _know _that. Or you should do, and you especially, Flint, or you're no damn Quidditch captain at all. You, Pucey and Montague were beaten today by a trio of Gryffindor girls on Cleansweeps. You only scored because you were faster, whereas every single damn pass of theirs was better executed than yours were. We were beaten by a _better _team, and good brooms aren't going to save us like some team reform will."

"You going for the captain job, Brynmor?" Flint repeated his earlier challenge. "Because you sure are beginning to sound like it."

"I'm trying to get a suggestion through your thick skulls." Cal knew that he was crossing the line, and had already kicked it several times during the course of this argument. He didn't care. He didn't want to be a part of Slytherin team if they flew and operated like they did and refused to change. "We have a Seeker who _bought _his way on to the team, and everyone here is _alright _with this? He screwed up phenomenally today, and everyone in the House is happy with it?" He raised his voice, waving a hand at all of the Slytherins present.

The pause that greeted this was tentative, and Cal could actually feel everyone agreeing with him yet not saying anything. Even Tanith and Tobias, usually not caring to keep their heads down, exchanged glances and then fell quiet.

"Perhaps you're just jealous that you were unable to make a contribution to the team as I was, Brynmor?" Draco Malfoy looked up lazily from the armchair he was sprawled on, raising an elegant eyebrow arrogantly, and wearing a smug expression that made Cal want to punch him.

"Malfoy, Potter was being chased by an enchanted Bludger out to kill him. He broke his arm. He fell on the floor and had the bones in his arm removed." Cal resented those who tittered at this – he wouldn't laugh at another Quidditch player's injuries on the field, even a Gryffindor's. "And yet, suffering all of this, he _still _out-flew you and caught the Snitch before you did." He threw as much venom as he had into his voice.

Malfoy stood, his expression darkening. "I didn't see you winning the game single-handedly, Brynmor."

"No, I'm not supposed to. I'm meant to harass the damn Chasers and stop them from scoring or defending adequately. I did that. We were well ahead in the scoring, and Falco and I did perfectly well." Cal jerked his head towards his seventh-year partner-in-Beating, who was slouched in the corner drowning his sorrows in Butterbeer, and could do nothing more than lazily raise his bottle to Cal in a faintly supportive manner.

"But you, Malfoy, failed to get the Snitch. You failed to even challenge Potter. Potter, with a broken arm, out-flew you. I didn't even see you fly in any try-outs. This is the same team as last year, the team which – like has been said – won the Quidditch cup. I don't see us beating Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw anymore than we failed to beat Gryffindor today. And what's changed in the team? We lost Higgs. We gained _you_." Cal glowered at the second-year. "Every single member of this team has fought for their place through the try-outs and through performing their very best in every single match. You have no try-out, and you have underperformed in a match." He looked over at Flint bitterly. "Yet the bastard remains."

"I like my Nimbus Two Thousand and One," Flint replied.

"At least you're honest in being bought." Cal shook his head, scowling, and straightened up. "I demand that you run another try-out for a Seeker, Flint. Malfoy's free to go along with it, but so are people like Finchley and Hawke. And we decide it on talent, not on buying the team broomsticks." Cal looked over at Malfoy. "If you truly wish to see the Quidditch team perform well, and if your donation is truly out of the bottom of your heart, you'll let us keep those broomsticks if you're on the team or not. Though I won't blame you for taking them away if you're not on the team."

Flint shook his head. "This is ridiculous, Brynmor. You're not the captain, I am, by Professor Snape's decree. You don't make the decisions on who's in the team or not, or when we hold try-outs. I do. And I'm keeping Malfoy."

Cal glowered at him. "Then I shall laugh when Gryffindor carry off the trophy this year. Or even Hufflepuff, perhaps; Diggory's reformed the team splendidly." He glanced over at Falco, who had stood and staggered over to him. The sixth-year Beater had been the one who'd trained him to bring him onto the Quidditch team in the first place, and they were widely renown as one of the best pairs of Beaters Slytherin had seen in years.

"I'm sorry, Matthias," Cal continued darkly, then turned to Flint. "If you're going to keep Malfoy, even with his pathetic level of skill and the fact that he bought his way on to the team, and not even hold a damn try-out for the spot, then I can safely say you're a pathetic captain caring more about his own ego and connections than the team. I quit."

Flint's expression darkened. "Quit? You can't quit!" For the first time, a slight note of fear had crept into his voice. Marcus Flint was unused to people speaking out like Cal had, but when they did, they usually backed down once they saw things were changing. Cal striking out like this was distinctive.

Flint turned to his one remaining Beater. "Falco! Make him see sense."

Matthias Falco hadn't drunk _that _much Butterbeer, though. "No. He's right. If you're doing this, Flint, you're not half the captain MacNair was. I quit, too." He shrugged. "I have NEWTs, anyway. And I've already got that summer youth team spot with Puddlemere United as it is. I don't need to waste my time with this pissant little Quidditch bollocks." He slapped Cal on the back heavily. "Make Bole and Derrick do it. We're out of here."

Silence settled down on the common room, stiff and uncertain as the two former Beaters moved off to take seats, Falco off with his friend Jacob Van Roden, Cal towards Tanith, Gabriel and Tobias. It was a few moments before a stiff hubbub returned as Flint and Malfoy dissipated also, and it was only then, when there was a comfortable hum and they were no longer being stared at that the three dared to comment.

"Are you sure about this?" Tanith asked quickly, leaning over the small table they were gathered around and fixing Cal with a rare yet perfectly genuine look of concern. "I mean… it's stupid, I know, but to quit?"

"Or what? Sit and play all I can and still watch them lose?" Cal shook his head. "Flint cares more about staying in Lucius Malfoy's good books than doing anything good for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and I'm having no part in it whatsoever. I have too much self-respect for that."

"You can't stay on the team and play well enough to make a difference?" Tobias asked quietly.

"Not really. Not as a Beater. I'm a purely supporting position. It's important, granted, but I can't turn the tide of a game if I'm already dealing with a poor Seeker and thick Chasers. I can't knock out the opposing side permanently. Maybe Falco could have done, but I can't." Cal's expression darkened, and he looked down at his hands. Tobias' essay notes were still spread liberally across the table, now untouched. Quidditch had for once made him look up from work.

"If you're alright with it, mate, then it's the right decision." Gabriel slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Gobstones?"

Tanith watched the two of them head off back to the dorm, doubtless to engage in a game which would take their minds away from the recent hiccups. She sighed, glancing over at Tobias, whose head had bent over the essay notes once more, apparently already forgetting what drama had just taken place.

"Doyle really does know how to raise his spirits at the right time, doesn't he," she mused quietly.

"Hmm?"

Tanith sighed, giving Tobias a glare, her hand reaching down to yank his latest essay note away from him. The nib of the quill drew a long, sharp line down the parchment, and although the look she received from him as a result was resentful rather than irritated it was better than absent-minded ignorance.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, but I do have to finish this Arithmancy essay or Vector will have me shot," Tobias said genuinely. "Cal won't shoot me for joining in Gobstones. Besides, I think I'm beginning to hate that game somewhat. It's a little vile."

"You used to play it all the time."

"That was back in the first year. Give me a _little _credit for growing up somewhat over two years." Tobias looked up, giving her a wry glance. "Can I have my essay notes back, then? Please?"

Tanith let them go reluctantly. "We've got Hogsmeade next weekend, don't we."

"We do?" Tobias had grabbed his notes again and was scribbling away on them. Tanith wondered if he'd be so attentive to them if she hit them with one good, hard, _Incendio _spell. "Didn't we have that at Halloween?"

She snatched the notes again. "Were you paying attention when it was delayed, Grey? Have you been listening to a word I said?"

"I have _work _to do." Tobias shook his head. "Oh, fine, Hogsmeade was delayed, we get to go next weekend. That'll be great, I need to sort out Christmas presents anyway. Using owl-order was getting pretty annoying." He sounded rather unenthusiastic.

"Could you be even a shade more excited? You've never been before, and as I talk about it all you're thinking about is your bloody Arithmancy essay!" Tanith exclaimed, stacking the notes and moving them to the far end of the table, where he couldn't reach them.

"I do _care _about exams and such, Tanith. I know the concept may be a novelty to you, working and all of that rubbish, but I, on the other hand, do give a damn. I'd like to not fail. So could you give me back my bloody notes?" Tobias actually sounded genuinely indignant.

"But I'm _bored_," she moaned, giving him an intentionally provocative grin.

"Then do your Care of Magical Creatures work!" Tobias said, waving a hand dismissively.

"I thought you said that was a stupid subject nobody should be expected to put a shred of effort into?" Tanith asked, her grin broadening.

"You can put effort into it when you're bugging me," Tobias mumbled bitterly, reaching across the table for his stack of notes. She swatted his hand lightly. "Why don't you go play Gobstones with Cal and Gabe, if you're bored?"

"I hate Gobstones. I always did." Tanith gave him a long look. "What's the essay on?"

"It's pretty straightforward at this point." Tobias grimaced a little, but seemed to think a conversation with Tanith about his work was better than a conversation about nothing, if he wasn't going to get work done. "Just on the basic theories of the levels of complexity of spells."

"Sounds fascinating."

"It really is." Sometimes, Tobias could be completely immune to irony. "I mean, in other subjects, we just wave a wand and think about how we're going to do something. We rarely ask why, or how it's possible. Arithmancy makes you understand so many other subjects so much better. Except for, I suppose, things like Potions."

"Arithmancy's the nutty subject, for the hard-core nutters," Tanith told him eloquently. "You'd be better off with Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh, yes, that subject goes well. How many limbs does your professor have?" Tobias laughed accusingly.

"Well, he's got one leg…" Tanith contemplated this for a moment. "It's not like we're studying dangerous things yet."

"Yet." Tobias shook his head, and managed to snatch up the pile of notes before she could stop him, victoriously returning to his essay. "You can find me behind my stack of books when you come back after being savaged by a Chimera."

"Yes, nobody could accuse you of Gryffindor bravery, could they, Grey," Tanith said wryly.

"Nope, but they could accuse you of Gryffindor stupidity on this topic." He smiled slightly to soften the blow.

Their banter was interrupted at that point by the main door opening slowly and Professor Snape stepping in. Usually, the head of their house could make a subtle entrance, where he would be unnoticed until a faint comment would be heard and interrupt the disruptions of the Slytherin common room. But after the argument of the Quidditch team, most of the students in the common room were even more obviously on-edge.

Professor Snape cleared his throat in a noticeable manner, and silence fell as all heads turned to face him. The potions master's face was impassive, as usual, yet there was a grimmer tilt to his chin than usual.

"There has been," he declared ominously, "another attack. This time, of a student. A Gryffindor first-year Muggle-born has been Petrified, and is currently in the infirmary." His dark eyes swept across the assembled pupils, as if daring them to make comment. Snape would look the other way regularly on many Slytherin transgressions, but would not suffer outright Muggle-baiting or bullying directly under his nose. A cheer, a smile, or any sort of smugness at the news of an attack on another student, Muggle-born or not, would have dire consequences.

The students knew this, and stayed quiet, keeping expressions impassive.

"Security will be stepped up. I know you all think that you have nothing to fear, but complacency is never wise. The matter is being dealt with, and the Hogsmeade trip next weekend shall go ahead as planned, yet I must tell you all to remain cautious, to not travel the corridors alone, and, of course, to inform me if you might know anything." Snape's eyes seemed more piercing at this, and Tobias wondered if he had any particular students in mind with that statement.

"Not to mention the fact that you should have all been in bed an hour ago, at least." And with that, he was gone, talking to his students at midnight and then leaving them to their own devices. It was his general manner of running the House, with a much more _laissez-faire _attitude than apparently McGonagall, Flitwick or Sprout held.

He never yelled. He never took House points. He only gave out detentions when severely pressed, or when prefects officially requested them. He understood that Slytherin received a good deal of antagonising from the rest of the school, and thus glanced away when they retaliated.

He also, Tobias regularly noted with anger, ignored the bullies who gave the House a bad name.

"Well, I don't know why we should be worried," Tanith said at last as the hubbub returned to the common room. "It's not like you or me are in danger, right? Just some Muggle-born kid who landed himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and whatever's prowling out there got him." She shrugged, seeming supremely unconcerned.

"Why aren't we in danger?" Tobias asked frostily, leaning over his essay notes again but hardly writing with any enthusiasm. "Attacks on the school are damn attacks. It's reason enough to be worried."

"Hey, you've read up on the Chamber of Secrets, I'm sure of it. You know what it's about – the eradication of Muggle-born wizards and witches and what have you. It's not going to affect a pair from good wizarding families like us." Tanith nudged him lightly with her elbow.

"That's if you believe it really _is _the Chamber of Secrets. The mad return of Salazar Slytherin is hardly something that can be easily confirmed." Tobias found himself mindlessly copying out the same notes as before, yet didn't stop himself because it ensured his mind was doing something other than quietly seething. "And if it is, and if non-purebloods are in danger, even if it doesn't affect you it's something you should be ready to tackle."

The 'you' had been direct, yet he knew Tanith would interpret it as being general. "Why?" she asked blankly. "It's not my concern. It's just a load of Muggle-borns." She shrugged. "Not something that bugs me."

"Really? Doesn't bug you that something might well be killing off other students?" Tobias said coolly.

"Look, you know I don't go in for all of You-Know-Who's madness of exterminating any who aren't purebloods, but I'm not going to cry a thousand tears and make it my duty to go on a mad vengeance rampage if Muggle-borns wind up dead either," Tanith said, rolling her eyes.

"So as long as it doesn't concern you, you're fine," Tobias checked slowly.

"Pretty much. And those I care about."

"And the fact that the Muggle-borns are wizards and witches just like you or me is irrelevant?"

"But they're _not_, are they." Tobias looked up sharply at these words, and Tanith shrugged at him before continuing. "They're different. You know that as well as I do. They're not quite Muggles, but they're not proper wizards either."

"Lesser?" Tobias asked blandly.

"Pretty much." Tanith shook her head. "Like I said, I've never subscribed to the Death Eater philosophies, and neither have my family. But I do think they should stay out of magic. It's not their world, it's ours."

"I never realised you felt quite _this _anti-Muggle-born," Tobias said slowly.

"They're just… I don't know. Not right."

Finally, he slammed shut the Arithmancy book he'd been studying for the last hour, scowling. "I guess that makes me 'not right', too, then?" he asked sharply, looking over at her with only barely controlled anger.

"You…?" Tanith blinked, looking at him in a confused manner. "You're not a Muggle-born."

He smiled humourlessly. "True. You know about my mother. Collins family, good family, good Slytherin and wizarding stock. Ever stopped to ask about the Grey family? You just figured it was some two-bit little pureblood house. Never stopped to ask and consider it, did you." As realisation dawned in her eyes, he nodded stiffly. "That's right. I'm a half-blood. My father was a Muggle-born. Killed in the war by those who think like you, even if you don't act like them."

He gathered his notes rapidly, moving to stand. "So that makes me the son of a blood traitor and a lesser being who didn't belong in this world to begin with. So I'm either half-acceptable, or not acceptable at all. I hardly think that'll be good enough for the Heir of Slytherin." Tobias looked up at her, only now just taking in the utter shock of her expression.

He didn't stop to think of how this moment might have been challenging her thoughts, her entire way of thinking for her life so far. It seemed much easier to assume the moment was challenging their friendship. Thus withdrawal seemed to be the best option.

"Now, it affects those you care about." Tobias straightened up, frowning and hefting his books in his arms. "Or… maybe not. I'm not going to assume either way." He smiled humourlessly. "After all, I'm lesser. Why would I know enough to make a valid judgement?"

With that said, he turned on his heel and stormed off towards the dormitory, quite unaware that he hadn't even given her a chance to respond to his revelation and subsequent accusations.

After all, he reasoned, it wasn't as if she'd have wanted him to stay around her for the time that would have taken.

§

"You shouldn't be sleeping in classes," Tobias hissed across the table at Cal, who was making no effort to hide the fact that History of Magic and Professor Binns had bored him into deep slumber. "Bloody hell, wake up, Cal. Stop looking so ridiculous."

"Because when I sleep in class, it's my appearance I'm worried about," Cal mumbled back weakly, but raised his head just in time to meet Professor Binns' eyes as the teacher hovered about in front of them. Tobias being Tobias, he had grabbed them a seat at the front of the classroom, just so he could be extra-close to take notes and pay extra attention. It also meant that he was far away from Tanith, who had claimed the back left corner with Gabriel, as per usual.

"I'll just get your notes later."

Tobias sighed. He wasn't one to argue. He wouldn't just _give _Cal the notes later, as that was simply lazy, but he could appreciate that Binns taught History of Magic to such a dull level that it could bore all but the most history-crazed. Like Tobias. He'd just go through the subject matter with Cal later, and allow him to learn of his own accord. Everyone seemed to gather around Tobias in the evening after a History of Magic lesson, trying to catch up without being bored to tears.

"…and many historians have generally accepted that the Muggle Protection Laws were nothing more than society legally recognising the immorality and foolishness of attacking non-wizarding folk, as something both inhumane and dangerous, risking the exposure of the magical world…"

Tobias raised a hand, and this prompted Cal to sit up abruptly. Around the room, everyone seemed similarly surprised, and the classroom woke up more than it had ever been awake in a History lesson.

"Sir, I'm not sure that's correct," Tobias interrupted quickly, his expression all sunshine and innocence.

Binns came to a halt in his monologue, and his ghostly form blinked, turning to face the young student curiously. "Excuse me, Mister, uh, Grahams?"

"Grey. It's Grey." Every single time, Binns got their names wrong. Nobody bothered to correct him except for Tobias. Always Tobias. "And you might want to consider the fact that Partridge pinpointed a decrease in officially noted Muggle attacks – and, on the Muggle side, fewer 'unexplained' incidents we can consider the magical community to be responsible for – following the new legislation."

Binns stared. Historical discussion was clearly a novelty, and didn't prompt Tobias to consider that NEWT classes would be exactly gripping. He'd have to find one of the sixth or seventh-years and ask them… but then, wait, did he know _any _NEWT students taking History of Magic?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another hand shoot up, and instinctively winced as he noticed it was Tanith's. "But you might want to consider that Partridge was a biased observer. He was Muggle-born and closely linked to the political groups searching for harsher sentences against those who worked against Muggles. Proving the efficacy of the Muggle Protection Laws suited his purposes."

He didn't stop to wonder when she'd read up on the subject, nor to consider the validity of her argument. Biases in History were always to be considered. Regardless, her interruption and the nature of things between them prompted him to scowl and shift slightly to face her.

"Biased or not, the figures speak for themselves. Partridge was the first person to bother to look them up. Muggle attacks might not have been 'socially acceptable' at that point in time, but it was still happening, mostly by groups of young, proud purebloods who knew nobody would try to stop them and considered themselves immune to the risks of wizarding exposure. Partridge pointed out that the new legislation cut these attacks by more than half."

"Apparently." Tanith's brown-eyed gaze met his icy blue one perfectly calmly. "Then consider Greenford's argument about how this information was gathered at the time. Before the laws came in, social or not, you'd still get these young, _proud, purebloods_" – the emphasis placed here was not lost on him – "baiting Muggles and then gloating about it. After the laws were in place, it was stupid to mention it, as they could just be imprisoned. It didn't _change _anything, it just made the issue sink lower in public awareness. Another pointless attempt by the Ministry to change what can't be changed."

"Pointless." Tobias blinked. "So you're saying that the Ministry should have just sat there and let the Muggles be attacked?"

"Did I say that?" Tanith challenged. The lesson had now been forgotten; the entire class was now watching this exchange with a sort of perverse fascination, and Binns seemed far too shocked by the fact that people were talking to actually interrupt. "You're putting words in my mouth, Grey."

"Well, _Cole_, you were being vague. Perhaps I'm just using my skills as a historian to evaluate your behaviour and attitudes thus far and draw a conclusion as to what it was you were trying to say. From all you've said all the time I've known you, an anti-Muggle sentiment is exactly what I should expect."

"Maybe if you stopped and _listened _for a moment, you might…"

"L-lesson over!" Binns exclaimed at last, his voice shaking. This room had probably just seen much more dissent over historical matters than it ever had in his tenure as Professor of the History of Magic, and it didn't seem that he was taking it particularly well.

"Let's go," Cal hissed, grabbing Tobias by the elbow the moment their bags were stowed in their schoolbags. "Right now." Tobias was too surprised to fight back, and thus found himself being veritably dragged out of the classroom, right past Tanith without even an opportunity to exchange with her the usual glares that they had shared over the last week.

The trip back to the common room was fast, and all of Tobias' attempts to get Cal to stop and explain his new urgency and apparent anger failed. They bustled through the crowds of students happy in the end of lessons for the day, manoeuvred through the corridors towards the Slytherin dungeon, and clambered down the stairs to burst through the common room and over to their rooms.

"Okay, this has to stop," Cal declared bluntly as he slammed shut the dormitory door behind him and Tobias once they had stepped inside. A long week of a barrier of avoidance between Tobias and Tanith, interjected with moments of sniping on his part and then angry retaliation on hers had frayed everyone's nerves. Cal, being stuck in the middle, had received twice as much, and had suffered twice as much.

"I'm just waiting for an apology," Tobias said stiffly as he threw his schoolbag across the room onto his bed. "That's all I want. I'm not going to shrug and just say that it's nothing and forget it, and you know it." He looked over at his friend. "And you're just as pissed off as me about her stance."

"What, you ever thought it was different? Did this come as a surprise to you? She was raised in one of those mad, old families. It's a bloody surprise they're not a house of Death Eaters. She never said it outright, but you knew it was there. You just chose now to pick a fight, so don't act all surprised," Cal retorted, throwing his bag aside.

"Why would I choose to pick a fight with her over it? It's not like it's something I've been ignoring until now," Tobias muttered bitterly, moving over to his bed at last and sitting at the foot of it, knocking his bag off and onto the floor. History notes threw themselves everywhere, but he ignored them.

"Because now we have some monster of the Chamber of Secrets marauding the corridors and attacking people? And because, if you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, you might well be a target?" Cal folded his arms across his chest.

"Cal, wrong place and wrong time for some rampaging monster would make you, with bloodlines that you can trace back however many centuries, a valid target. Don't piss off rampaging monsters – it's a good rule." Tobias scowled, staring out of the enchanted window. Although the Slytherin rooms were underground, almost under the lake, the gloom had often been too much for many students, and thus an affect not dissimilar to the enchanted roof of the Great Hall had been employed in the common room and dorms.

"But right now, more than in probably over ten years, where you stand on the issue of Muggle-borns is becoming important. Give Tanith a chance – you think she ever needed to stop and even think about her opinion?" Cal said, with surprising awareness. But being as trapped in the middle of the situation as Tobias was, albeit for different reasons, his deep perspective shouldn't have been as unexpected as it was.

"No. That's why I'm just giving her a chance to apologise."

"Mate, you're waiting for her to apologise right as you antagonise her and make snide comments," Cal said darkly. "Remember who we're dealing with – Tanith Cole. She's not exactly going to win Miss Humble of the Year Award. The more comments you make, the more pissed off with you she becomes."

"She's in the wrong here!"

"Yes, but you're just making it harder for her to accept that by being an arse about it all!" Cal threw his hands up into the air, moving over to sit down on his bed, which was directly opposite Tobias'. "This is a bloody miserable time for everyone. Except for the thick Slytherins cheering as Muggle-borns drop."

"She's practically one of them."

Cal kicked him in the shins. It wasn't hard, but it was sharp enough for him to recoil and glare. "You know she's not, so don't talk like that again or I'll wallop you properly. She's better than Ed and Miles and Malfoy and all of those other pillocks. And you know it."

"Humph. She's been spending a notable amount of time with Melanie and Ariane lately. Those two aren't exactly friendly or open-minded. There's a reason I didn't tell people I was a half-blood. I only told you last year because you told me about… you know." Tobias shrugged.

"Yeah. My issues." Cal shook his head. "She's not going to tell the others. I _have _spoken to her about this, much like I'm yelling at you about this right now." He shrugged. "Look, we've got Hogsmeade tomorrow. That'll be a trip away from the school, and should clear our heads, you know? Talk to her then."

"I'm waiting for an apology," Tobias said stiffly. "She's insulted me, she's insulted my Dad, and I don't want to talk to her any more if it's going to be when she makes me the 'exception' to her little rules. Because she's wrong, and I'm not suffering that."

Cal stood, looking faintly amused. "You're holding out for an apology from Tanith Cole. This could be amusing. I wonder if you'll have any blood left in your body when she's done with you tomorrow." He smirked. "Seriously, you two just need to talk without sniping."

"I don't snipe. I comment."

"Sure, just like she doesn't retaliate, she just… _answers_." Cal rolled his eyes. "Swings and roundabouts."

"What?"

"Never mind. Gabe will drag her down to The Three Broomsticks tomorrow. We'll just be there and you two can talk, and stop acting like little kids. It gets annoying, and it means I'm not allowed to act as stupidly or as immaturely as possible. I have to be the baby-sitter, instead of the baby-sat." Cal shrugged, heading for the door. "You two need to start being grown-up again, or Gabe and I might act childish and go blow something up."

"Just to get our attention?"

"Just because we feel like it."

§

"Here. Drink this. It'll make you seem a lot less moody," Cal said as he slid a mug of Butterbeer across the table in The Three Broomsticks he and Tobias had commandeered. Even though this was the first time either of them had been to Hogsmeade, they hadn't stopped to look at the sights and check out the sweet shop or any of the fun their classmates were taking part in. Tobias had wanted to, but Cal had swept him down the main street without even a chance of looking around, and practically shoved him into The Three Broomsticks.

A meeting with Tanith wasn't something Tobias wanted to miss, truly. She would probably have some rather devastating way to deal with tardiness. But they were a good fifteen minutes early, and if this did take all afternoon like he was afraid it would he'd stand no chance of making it down to the bookstore to nose around.

"I'm not moody," Tobias insisted as he sipped the Butterbeer rather sulkily. "I'm just annoyed that we're right here, right now, when we have a good while before Tanith's expecting us to be here. Gabe will have her here on time, don't worry about your precious little happy friendship-fixing plan." A slightly patronising tone crept into his voice, tinged with bitterness and anger at the situation, though not particularly directed at Cal specifically. It was more of a general unhappiness.

"Oh, yeah. Because let's go to the bookshop. That'll solve things with Tanith," Cal said sarcastically. "It may be your answer to everything else, but it's not going to work with this one. You may actually have to find social skills."

"All I want is an apology." Tobias swirled his Butterbeer about, staring into the steaming contents of his mug idly.

"You may be here a time. Tanith Cole, remember? Oh…" Cal's voice trailed off as he stared over Tobias' shoulder at the door, and he grinned faintly. "Hey, she's just as nervous and prompt as we were. There's a surprise. Guess she really does want to talk."

Tobias stiffened, but didn't talk. "Or Gabe just wants the fun that I want out in Hogsmeade and decided to get Tanith here as soon as physically possible."

Cal gave him a glare as he stood. "Stop pretending you have better places to be, or I really will begin to believe that you don't want Tanith around. And then I'd have to hit you. Kinda hard." He grinned humourlessly, then sauntered over towards the doorway. Tobias twisted discreetly to see him pause by Tanith, exchange a few words with her he couldn't hear over the bustle of The Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade day, and then head for the door where Gabriel waited. As Tanith turned in his direction he shifted to look away, acting oblivious.

She approached, tentatively, and even though his ears were straining to notice her arrival he was only completely aware of her presence once she was standing over him, looking sheepish and guarded all at once. "Mind if I sit here?" she asked, her voice casual and yet guarded.

It was such a harkening back to old days of early Hogwarts that he couldn't help but grin a little, and nodded to the chair opposite. "Cal didn't touch that Butterbeer, by the way. I guess he bought it for you."

"I'll pay him back later." The tone of Tanith's voice as she slid uncertainly onto her seat suggested that it was more than a drink she owed Cal for. It did make him stop and think, for an uncertain Tanith was truly a novelty to him.

There was a silence as she sipped the Butterbeer and he continued to stare in his until the steam began to make his glasses mist, and gave him the excuse to pull them off and absently clean them with the sleeve of his robes. He wasn't going to make the first move.

But as she looked across the table at him, it seemed she didn't have to. "Cal mentioned that all you really want is an apology," Tanith said at last, sounding as if the word 'apology' had been dragged out of her unhappily.

Tobias only grunted in reply, staring at the Butterbeer. This was ridiculous. He didn't want some forced apology just so she could play nice and pretend everything had gone back to normal. Things _weren't _normal. He couldn't cope if she would smile one minute and act like his friend and then insult those who represented his whole background, his whole heritage. His father had been a Muggle, he'd been to a Muggle primary school – ostracised and ignored for being 'weird', but time had allowed him to gain enough perspective on that to just recognise the simple cruelty of children. They weren't… nothings, like so many of his classmates claimed.

So he didn't want to hear Tanith give an apology she didn't mean. If he couldn't change her, then…

Then…

"But I know an apology isn't quite enough. I'm sorry. I really am. But you deserve more than just that." Tobias looked up, blinking at Tanith as she gazed at him earnestly across the small table. There was no hint of anything but sincerity in her expression and voice.

"Wait a second." Tobias frowned. "Did you just apologise to me?"

Tanith gave him a faint glare. "Yes. I did. Don't push it, Grey, this is what you're getting. Take it or leave it." Without waiting for a reply, she pressed on, leaning forwards slightly. "I still think you might want… an explanation."

"I'm not sure how you can really explain… bigotry." Tobias smiled humourlessly.

The mug of Butterbeer had been halfway to her lips at this, and she slammed it down on the table angrily as he spoke, fixing him with a fresh glare. "Are you even going to listen, or are you going to exercise the sort of closed-minded manner that you're angry at me for exhibiting?" she demanded, her voice tight.

He winced. "Point taken. Go on."

She paused, taking a deep breath to visibly calm herself, gathering thoughts and finally getting a gulp of Butterbeer down. "You've met my family. Met my father, mother… my sister escaped, but you don't need her to complete the picture. You know what they're like."

He shrugged, feeling like being intentionally difficult. "They seemed nice enough."

"Yeah. When they bothered to talk to me, or you." Tanith gave him an unhappy grin. "Never Death Eaters. None of that in my history. Loyal supporters of the Ministry in the war." She sniffed ruefully. "But don't get us wrong. The Coles are a pure-blooded family, and proud of it."

"And not proud of those with less than pure blood," Tobias said bitterly.

She had the good grace to look embarrassed at this, her eyes flickering down. "Look, I've had all week to think about things. What you said, about your dad. Cal talked to me about his foster-father, the Muggle-born fellow, too. I'm sorry if I've been snappish with you the last few days, as well. It's just… weird."

"That, I'd agree with." He nodded slowly.

"I guess some of what Altair's been telling me since forever sank in." Tobias winced a little at the reference to her tutor, Daedalus Cole's 'handyman', Altair Ritter, the scariest Squib he'd ever met. "About ability defining us. I just took what he was saying at first about not being exclusive to magic. He might not have any… power, but…"

"But the Ritter family's pure-blood, right?" Tobias guessed.

Tanith nodded slowly. "I just think he'd be so disappointed in me right now," she admitted quietly. "I completely missed so much of what he's been trying to teach me. He kept saying how I had more 'potential' than my sister, and I always assumed that was… in magic, in lessons. He taught me about art, literature, music, what Muggles would call a 'classical' education but which the wizarding world often overlooks. And all I could do was take that, nod, and stick it in my happily Magical, enclosed world."

"You've never been as closed as Montague or Bletchley," Tobias insisted, frowning slightly.

"Same train of thought. Just not acting on it. This week… I guess it kicked in." She shrugged. "You're… uh… you're one of the best people I know, Grey. You're a good guy. You're a great wizard. There's nothing 'lesser' about you. But you're a half-blood…"

"Which contradicts all you thought in the past." He nodded, scowling a little, taking her compliment but a little nervous of consequences.

"So it means something's wrong here. Either what I've seen with my own eyes – you – is wrong, deceptive, somehow screwed-up… or what I've been _told _is incorrect." Tanith smiled tightly. "Any good historian knows that a primary source might be biased, but it's usually more valuable than a secondary one."

Tobias chuckled, a little nervously. "Thank God for Mister Ritter, then," he sighed, shaking his head. "Otherwise you really _would _be as stupid as Montague and Bletchley."

"Yeah, when you get told day after day that ability defines us, any hierarchy of 'blood' becomes less important. It's why I don't kow-tow to Draco like others do." Tanith gazed out the window slowly. "That didn't skip over to half-bloods and Muggle-borns because I always figured, before… that they _were _of lesser ability."

"That's the problem with Slytherin. It's mostly pure-bloods, so people like Montague don't get exposed to those who'll prove them wrong," Tobias sighed. "If, perhaps, they would just _look _at what some of the Muggle-borns are doing, see how brilliant they can me, they might not be complete arses."

"There's you. You'd be 'lesser' in their eyes, if they knew about your dad." Already, Tanith seemed both sheepish that she had held this viewpoint, and scornful that others still maintained it. "But you're better than them. So you can present the example."

Tobias laughed. "Yeah. Right. A nice theory, but I'm no world-changer or role model." He shook his head, smirking and grimacing at the same time. "And they don't recognise that I'm just ten times better than them." His expression turned wry. "They'd just dismiss me more than they already do if they knew."

Tanith sighed, and nodded. "I guess you're right. We never do stick our heads up."

"They'd just get chopped off if we did. We're too much of a challenge to their happy little worlds to do anything and really get away with it." Tobias finished off his Butterbeer, then set the mug down with a satisfied grin.

Tanith nodded again and smiled tentatively. "So… apology accepted?"

He gave her a long look. "You'd probably kill me if we continued to be angry at each other any longer," Tobias said at last, his grin broadening, and he straightened up. "But c'mon. It's not like Hogsmeade will last forever. And I've still hardly seen anything."

"Me neither." Tanith grinned, standing. "Zonko's sounds good?"

Tobias nodded, also clambering to his feet. "Sure, so long as we can hit the bookstore later… oh, and the sweets, my sweet-tooth is crying out for attention…"

"So, like the rest of you, really…"


	4. December 15th, 1994 – Fifth Year

**December 15th, 1994**** – Fifth Year**

"Is it me, or does this Yule Ball idea that decrepit old fossil's come up with sound like a bad, bad thing that will torment us for the rest of our days and leave us with scars of embarrassment that nobody in the world will ever let us forget?" Tobias asked as he and Cal stepped past the statue that guarded the doorway to the Slytherin common room and walked inside.

The room was already full of students mumbling and glancing at each other, and Tobias could sense the eyes of a few fourth-years upon him. He wanted to squirm away; it felt as if he was some cut of meat in a butcher's shop being eyed evaluatingly. If girls always dealt with him this way, maybe he'd follow Tanith's suggestion of going gay or celibate.

Then again, the thought of Tanith in the context of this Yule Ball sent up a jolt in his stomach that happily dismissed the suggestions.

"I think it is a very, _very _bad idea, boyo, you're right," Cal agreed, stepping out of the path of some third years who had their eyes on him. "And I think we should abstain from this night of evil, if at all possible." The Welshman looked distinctly shaken by the proclamation of the ball, which had come from Snape the last time they'd seen him.

"You can't abstain!" Gabriel's voice wafted over from the comfy chairs in the corner, and they headed over to where their friend was draped artfully across an armchair, looking unconcerned by all of the goings-on that had everyone else in a state of complete and utter panic and turmoil.

"Why the hell not?" Tobias demanded, flopping onto the sofa. Cal collapsed beside him with a grunt and a mild, pained groan. "Where are we supposed to find partners? I loathe my dress robes. I can't dance to save my life. I don't know the etiquette for fancy do's like these! I'll step on toes!"

"Well, finding partners is easy. Just look around you, mate. See the wonders of Slytherin house." Gabriel raised a hand and gestured lightly to their surroundings, and the many students around them. Tobias wasn't entirely sure he'd class all of the girls as 'wonders'. "Surely you can find some delectable individual in this crowd of delightful housemates?"

Silence met Gabriel's words as Tobias and Cal merely stared at him. "Gabe," Cal started at last. "Slytherin House has the worst ratio of boys to girls in the whole of Hogwarts. The bad proportions are incredible and record-shattering."

"And even worse if you take into account the number of these girls who are built like battleships and are about half as pretty," Tobias agreed mournfully. "Cal and I will probably have to go to the dance _together_."

"Before you lovebirds jump at the opportunity to declare your affection and you, Toby, get the chance to prove Tanith right," Gabriel interrupted quickly, raising his hands at them both, "take into account the size and intellect of half of the _males _in Slytherin House. Remember, the Sorting Hat seems to think 'stupid, cruel and thuggish' were part of Salazar Slytherin's best traits."

"Bastard hat," Cal mumbled.

"So what you're saying, Gabe, is that Slytherin House is our oyster?" Tobias asked, wearing a thoughtful expression as he leant back on the sofa. He took his glasses off and polished them on the sleeve of his robe, as he always did whenever he was deep in thought.

"I have no idea what you're going on about, but I don't think oysters are on the menu for this banquet," Gabriel said blankly. "There's lamb chops? Will that do?"

Cal sighed. "What we mean is, do you really think there are that many potential targets out there? Decent girls who haven't already been taken?" Beside him, Tobias nodded vaguely, but still seemed rather distracted.

"Oh, sure! Plenty of girls left, I'm certain. I asked Melanie Larkin a few minutes ago, so that's one less, but there are always possibilities. Still plenty left," Gabriel said reassuringly, though every word rang more hollow than the last to his two friends.

"Great. Then I guess that leaves Ariane?" Cal asked, perking up a little. The inseparable pair of girls in Slytherin's fifth year were amiable enough, provided they didn't hate your guts. Of course, being Slytherins themselves, Cal and Tobias already had something of an advantage, but few others had such a protection.

"Miles has already asked her," Gabriel said apologetically.

Cal scowled. "So much for the opportunities and possibilities still out there. You do talk an awful amount of rubbish sometimes, Gabe." He folded his arms across his chest sulkily, actually pouting a little. Then he glanced at Tobias grimly. "We're screwed, mate."

"Tobias isn't," Gabriel said shrewdly, eyeing his friend. "Because Tobias has remembered secret option number three of partners available to him. However, that door's closed off to you, unless you want to get killed."

Tobias raised his eyes to look at Gabriel. "What do you think you know?" he asked grimly, as Cal looked on blankly.

"There's no _thinking_. It's called paying attention for six months. Oh, it's been subtle, but it's there," Gabriel said, nodding slowly and smirking in that self-satisfied way of his which just _proved _he knew what was going on.

"What's where?" Cal asked slowly.

"Caldwyn, my friend, you put the 'b' in subtle," Gabriel said, not unkindly as Cal glared at him, then he fixed his eyes back on Tobias. "So, you're going to talk to Tanith, then? I can think of worse ideas."

Cal clicked his fingers impatiently. "Damn, yes, Tanith! That would make life so much easier. She wouldn't _care _what colour my dress robes were, and we'd probably have a blast just relaxing all evening… no damn tension…" His voice trailed off as he saw Gabriel shaking his head frantically at him, and he looked over at where Tobias sat, still deep in thought. "Oh, damn," Cal concluded.

"I think that's the right word," Tobias said, smirking humourlessly.

"You've been thinking about this for the last two hours, haven't you?" Cal concluded, crestfallen.

"I've been thinking about this for the last two months at least. Only now it's taken some sort of focused form and aim." Tobias stood up. "I'm going to die at the end of the day, aren't I." He looked at Gabriel unhappily.

"Not if you pull it off right." Gabriel looked at his watch, his forehead creased with consternation. "Then again, you might want to move quickly, as last time I saw Tanith, that Durmstrang fellow Radimir had been about to talk to her…"

The colour fled from Tobias's face, and he whirled around on his heel, hurtling towards the door back the way he came. He didn't get too far, though; not even to the statue at the entrance to the common room, before it opened up without his intervention and Tanith herself stepped in.

Mercifully aware that Gabriel and Cal couldn't hear him from here, and that they were rather cut off from the rest of the common room standing by this entranceway, Tobias skidded to a stop in front of her, and she paused, giving him a quizzical look.

"Where're you off to in such a hurry?" Tanith asked, raising an eyebrow at him in a curious manner.

"Well… I was just off to talk to…" Tobias's voice trailed off, and he shook his head a little. "Never mind. How was Care of Magical Creatures?" Suddenly, his throat seemed rather dry, and he couldn't just dive into the topic as he wished to. Words of small talk were the only he could utter without croaking.

"Fine. That lump Hagrid's still as deranged as ever, but at least my Blast-Ended Skrewt isn't about to kill me or anyone else any time soon, as it's a touch dead." Tanith shrugged. "There are worse fates for creatures with no purpose other than to try and sting me into oblivion. I could have grown angry with it, for one."

Tobias grinned a nervous grin which was still fuelled by the fact that he definitely didn't doubt her. "You spoke to Radimir?" he asked, managing to inject the question into the conversation relatively smoothly – he thought. "Gabriel mentioned you were chatting a few minutes ago…"

"Yes… he wanted to talk to me about Ancient Runes…" Tanith eyed Tobias slightly. "Why?"

"Nothing." Tobias shook his head, then smiled nervously again and shrugged. "Well, it's just all of this Yule Ball madness." He managed to force his smile to become much more forceful, real, strong. "Seems that Ariane and Melanie are both taken, by Miles and Gabriel. You're the only girl left in our year…"

Tanith gave him another contemplative look, taking in his faintly frantic appearance and the fact that he was clearly a bag of nerves. "You're suggesting that we go along together?" She seemed to mull this one over as Tobias only managed to stare in an absent and shocked way she clearly took as verification. "Hmm. Sounds like fun. A lot less painful than having to hunt down some acceptable bloke. Could be a laugh, yes…"

_No! Don't say it's a laugh! Don't just say that it sounds like fun! _The voice inside Tobias' head set off at a ramble at this point, but he was completely incapable of expressing its wishes with his own words. _Say that it sounds wonderful! Say you'd be delighted to spend the Yule Ball with me! Say you know it'll be a magical evening!_

"Yeah… much… easier," Tobias said weakly. "I mean… after all, do you want to go through the stress of finding some romantic partner when there's a friend right here who's willing and… well, it's much less certain?" He knew the meaning of his words, he knew the intent he was trying to get across – and yet he _knew _that he'd just dressed them up enough to be misinterpreted. And Tanith couldn't be blamed for that.

"I guess we'll have to colour co-ordinate our robes, then," Tanith commented with a smirk. Her complete lack of any trace of nervousness confirmed in Tobias' head that he'd just made his suggestion in the worst possible way. "Now, I've got to shower, because I've been handling a damned Skrewt all afternoon, but it's a good idea, you know? I always knew you were a sharp thinker." She tapped him on the side of the head lightly in a companionable way which still made Tobias's stomach lurch – not unpleasantly – before she sauntered off towards the dorm.

Tobias stepped back to where Cal and Gabriel were sitting, not sure of whether or not to be euphoric. "I… well… that went interestingly," he said quietly at their questioning gazes, then lifted his feet up to rest them on the table, staring out the enchanted windows – being underground, Slytherin common room windows merely showed a magical picture of the grounds from an angle that they figured was from one of the towers on many levels above them. The result was pleasant, but often disconcerting.

"You told her you'd go as friends," Gabriel finished, rolling his eyes and rubbing his temples. "You're useless, Grey."

Cal blinked, and stared at Tobias. "I thought the entire point was that you were… you know…"

"I… didn't _tell _her we'd go as friends… she just sort of assumed and I phrased it so she _could _assume, and I didn't then correct her… and now we're just a pair of pals going along because it's easier than hunting down some other partner for the dance… and I don't like dancing! I mean, I _can_, and I'm pretty good at it, but I don't want to!" Tobias exclaimed, his concerns suddenly piling down upon him oppressively.

Cal grimaced. "Well… I'm sure you could manage to bring it across there and then on the night that your plans are something a bit different… oh! And Christmas present!" He gestured quickly. "That's _always _a good way to state you have more than friend intentions. What did you get her?"

Tobias sat up, looking quite encouraged by this. "Yeah, that's a good point, Cal. And she'll love the present; it's this great book on…" He stopped as Gabriel and Cal exchanged glances, then fell back in their seats and groaned melodramatically. "What?"

"A _book_?" Gabriel echoed, shaking his head and looking pained. "That's all very well if you're both friends and you're… well… _you_… but it's not a good way to slowly approach the suggestion that you want more. Get her jewellery. Get her expensive chocolates. Get her something subtle which she'd love but didn't even realise she wanted it, and you worked it out from carefully paying attention all these years, just to demonstrate you _do _have emotions and are perfect for her."

Tobias stared at him. "Like what?"

There was a moment as the three of them sat in silence, then Cal frowned. "Get her jewellery," he decided at last, and Gabriel nodded firmly.

"Owl-order jewellery?" Tobias scrunched his nose up in thought. "I guess I don't have much choice," he conceded, grimacing. "But there are only ten days… it can be hell for that to work properly…"

"You can use Gawain," Cal offered generously. "He's faster than most owls. You should get your delivery pretty promptly with him. You just need to go and get the right catalogue and right present. Do you have enough money?"

"No, but I'll spend every last bloody knut if I have to," Tobias mumbled venomously.

"That's the spirit! Self-sacrifice! Women love that!" Gabriel declared.

Tobias sighed, shaking his head and sinking back onto his chair. He was rather under the distinct impression that the Yule Ball was merely going to make his feelings more complicated, rather than dissolve the problems as he had originally thought.

§

"Cal, will you put that away? When I bought that for you as a Christmas present, I hadn't expected to be on the receiving end of it," Tobias instructed, looking over at his friend from where he stood before a long mirror in the boys' dormitory, adjusting the clasp on the cloak of his black dress robes.

"No. You bought this, and told me that it was something I could record history with. Now, I know you expected me to flit out and record something else, which would actually be in the history books, but it's hard to know what _will _and won't, considering that we're not in history. So I thought it'd be more fun to record something we can look back on in ten years time and have one great laugh. And, you never know – you might be famous some day and I can sell this for millions of Galleons," Cal said in a rush, not lowering the magical Recording Orb that Tobias had given him that morning. It was a very simple and basic form of magic, and only worked on a small scale, but could record several hours worth of visual and audio events, and then it only took a simple charm to get it to project a reproduction. Fun, Tobias had thought, when he'd seen it. Now he was beginning to regret it.

"Aye. We must record for posterity," Gabriel declared, stepping from out of the bathroom, his simple silk, emerald dress robes already on, but his hair damp from the shower. "Then again, Cal, what's to say that it won't be _you _who'll be famous in the future, and people won't want an image of you?"

"I am the narrator. I am the storyteller. I am not the story." Cal snickered as Tobias groaned, but obligingly turned the Recording Orb on himself, speaking directly to it. "So, here we are," he started in a deep, probably supposed-to-sound-mysterious voice. "The opening act of the Yule Ball, as the handsomest hunks of Slytherin house get ready for their gorgeous beauties that they wish to entertain tonight. Who knows what romantic possibilities will emerge by the end of the night?"

"I have a few ideas, mate," Miles Bletchley called out from the other side of the dorm, where he was arranging his flamboyant, mahogany-hued robes. Cal turned the Orb to face him. "A few little plans in particular for Miss Ariane Drake… who shall have the pleasurable company tonight of the wonder that is myself!" But he wore a smirk with his words, taking some of the arrogant edge out.

"You know, I think you might end up with that ego suffering from a mild deflation by the end of the evening," Tobias commented wryly. "But we're the only ones going out with the two available girls in our house and year… and something tells me you might have more success on the romance front than I."

"You think my intentions tonight are romance, Grey?" Bletchley asked with a smirk and a chuckle. "No… don't underestimate me…"

"Oh, we won't, Miles," Cal called out, interrupting rapidly, then turning to Gabriel with the orb. "So, Mister Doyle, what happened to your delightful partner? The gorgeous Melanie Larkin? I thought you were going together."

"So did I," Gabriel said, not sounding particularly bothered. "But she had that mild accident in charms the other day and is still stuck up in the hospital wing. So it seems like I'm just flying solo tonight." He shrugged. "It's alright. It means I don't have to dance."

"Maybe you could be my partner in crime with this Recording Orb?" Cal suggested brightly.

"I'm glad you finished that sentence after 'partner', Brynmor," Bletchley said with a wry grin. "Anyway, ladies, I think I'm done. Time to wait for five hours for Ariane to emerge, but I have to be waiting for her. It's the rule of the world." He swaggered towards the door, stopping by Tobias. "I'd stop there, Grey, mate. You're just going to work yourself into a stress if you don't give up now and accept that you look as great as you'll ever look."

Tobias looked at him, considering this 'compliment'. Then he sagged. "I guess you're right. Yeah, Tanith will have my head if I keep her waiting, and I'd rather not piss her off tonight, if at all possible…"

Bletchley laughed, clapping Tobias on the back as they descended the stairs. "Hey, no worries, Grey. Tanith's a great girl, wonderful girl, but she's not as scary as she often makes out…"

"I am her best friend, Miles, I think I know her better than you might with your five-minute relationships last year," Tobias replied testily.

Bletchley laughed again. He did that a lot. "Don't underestimate the intensity of our relationship, or what it let me know about her, Grey. Why, the things that I could tell you, if only I had the time…" His voice trailed off as he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Don't." Tobias' voice was cold and tight by now. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't; really. Because they'll firstly make me want to hit you, and I'll secondly know that you're lying. Tanith does _talk _to me, you know…" Something glinted in his eyes. "Maybe I know more about you than you'd like?"

This actually shut Bletchley up, and he and Tobias stepped down into the common room without further comment, leaving Gabriel and Cal alone in the dormitory, the latter still holding the Recording Orb, which he turned towards Gabriel.

"I think they're both going to get nasty surprises tonight," Cal said calmly, and Gabriel nodded. "Do you have any idea where Edmund and Adrian are right now? They haven't been seen for hours…"

"I think they're down there already. Montague found himself some partner in the sixth year, and Pucey got one of Parkinson's little friends to go with him. He's mad, but he's a Quidditch 'star', so that sort of helps," Gabriel explained, tugging at the sleeves of his dress robes, still adjusting the fit slightly until it was what he would deign as perfect.

"Hey, Gabe?" Cal lowered the Orb slightly. "Can I ask you something?" Gabriel grunted. "You never did explain why you came along late to school this year. Just sauntered in on day two without an explanation of any sorts. I mean, I understand if you don't want to tell loads of people… and, really, if you don't want me to know, but if it's anything…"

"It's nothing important," Gabriel said quickly. There was an uncomfortable pause, and he glanced over at Cal. "Alright. But switch that Orb off. And erase the last few seconds once you're done. I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you."

Cal flicked the Orb off obligingly, and a few seconds passed as he fiddled with his wand to wipe off the lead-up to the switch-off. "Alright. Go ahead, then," he said slowly.

"Well, I did give you _some _sort of explanation," Gabriel started calmly. "I couldn't get to King's Cross in time. My dad had an important meeting to go to… it sort of kept him back. And I wanted to wait around until it was done, so I knew how it went…"

"Something that important happened in the Department of Magical Transport?" Cal asked sceptically, sniffing the bigger story.

"Something that important happened down at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Gabriel explained stiffly, looking away and focusing on the mirror. "It… it's from those Death Eaters that made trouble at the World Cup. The Wizengamot have been going through lists." He grimaced at Cal's enquiring expression. "Old suspect lists."

"Your father…?" Cal stared.

"Had links to You-Know-Who. Yeah. And no, he's not a Death Eater, and wasn't, and didn't have anything to do with torturing those Muggles at the World Cup," Gabriel said, his voice gaining strength as the sentence moved along, until it was a fierce snap that dared Cal to make comment.

Cal didn't; he had rarely seen Gabriel make such a display of emotion, and knew this had to be a difficult topic for him. "So the Wizengamot found him… clear of anything which could still cast… suspicions in his direction?"

"Yes. It's all ancient history," Gabriel said angrily.

"What… what did he do?" Cal asked quietly, trying to not jerk any further extreme reactions out of Gabriel, but sensing that this was something – one of the many, many things, in fact – that his friend had been bottling up for a while.

"Passed information over to You-Know-Who. He worked in the Department of Mysteries for a while." Gabriel glanced at Cal. "That would explain why your foster-father looked like he wanted to hex him coming off the train at the end of last year. He probably sees him as a traitor. And… and he was." Gabriel nodded slowly. "But that was fifteen years ago. A lot's changed. People have changed."

"Times have changed," Cal agreed quietly.

Gabriel turned to face him. "I know that I don't generally care what people think about me, and that's fair enough. But don't tell anyone. I'd rather my family didn't come into question, and I'd also rather not have people like Montague making loud comments about how my father was just serving the cause and I'm a 'good little Slytherin' now." A sneer crept into his voice.

"Hey, my lips are sealed, mate. I'm not going to judge you on this." Cal clapped him on the shoulder lightly, his hand staying there. "Death Eater father in Azkaban, and Death Eater mother dead at the hands of my foster-father, remember?" He smirked at the convoluted description of his family life. "It doesn't affect how I view you at all. And as I've hardly ever met your father, I won't lose sleep over it."

Gabriel nodded, smiling slightly. It was one of the few genuine smiles Cal had seen from him – which wasn't of amusement or a mere wry grin, that was. "Thanks, Caldwyn," he said calmly, adjusting his robes again. "I should have figured that you'd be the one to press the issue. Tanith doesn't ask about ancient history; she's got her own mess of it, and Tobias is just oblivious."

"Just glad to help. I always have a listening ear." Cal brandished the Recording Orb. "Can I turn this on? I want to go taunt Tobias and talk to Tanith. Nothing else you want to say first that won't be recorded for posterity?"

Gabriel looked at him for a long moment, then smirked. "I think we should definitely torment Slytherins with this Orb tonight," he declared. "You made me watch that Muggle TV briefly over the summer. We should do it like that – you can be in charge of the Orb, and I'll just interrogate people in embarrassing ways."

"Sounds like fun." Cal returned the smirk. "I'll get started on Toby, and you can come down once you're finished grooming yourself, okay?"

Gabriel nodded, and Cal stepped out of the dormitory, reactivating the Recording Orb as he headed down the stairs into the common room. There stood Bletchley and Tobias, both waiting patiently, but whilst Bletchley's expression was casual and certain, Tobias looked like he was about to have a fit from nerves.

Suddenly, the idea of baiting him seemed much less tempting to Cal, and he merely flashed the Orb past them in an acknowledgement of their presence. He didn't feel too inclined to go and bother Tanith, either, but there were definitely other things to talk about.

He headed up the stairs towards the girls' dormitory. Tobias had told him about something he'd read which said that, in other houses, boys couldn't even get up the stairs to the dorms; various charms would stop them. Slytherin house was quite different – Cal couldn't barge in on the girls (all two of them currently left), but he could step into the room if he was invited in by one of the occupants. It was a much more sophisticated system, though did lead to certain… problems amongst seventh years that Cal didn't want to think about too much.

He knocked on the door of the fifth year girls' dormitory lightly, still holding the Orb. "You ladies aren't indecent, are you? It's Cal."

"Come on in," Ariane's voice filtered through. She had never paid an excessive amount of attention to Cal in the past, but had never objected to him that much, either. She seemed to have no complaints about letting him in to obviously talk to Tanith.

Cal waltzed in, half-holding his breath. He sighed with faint relief as he saw they were both very much fully dressed, and – he had to admit it – looking rather fetching in their dress robes. For the first time, Cal felt faintly bothered about not having a partner for the dance. Granted, he and Gabe would have a good time, but even _Montague _had been able to find someone. He shook his head slightly.

"You ladies look gorgeous tonight," he declared loftily, deciding to distance himself from the situation, and silently cursing that Miles Bletchley could be such a smooth talker; he'd happily take Ariane Drake to the Yule Ball if he had half a chance. He could just see it; he with Ariane, Gabriel with Melanie, and Tobias and Tanith together. Union of the least-objectionable Slytherins of the year – though Melanie certainly had her nasty side.

He shook his head again to clear it of foolish thoughts, and grinned at Tanith. "Hey, that's the necklace Tobias gave you this morning," he declared, gesturing to it and blurting it out before he could even think about it.

Ariane turned to face Tanith, who was looking a little sheepish by now. "Grey got you that?" she asked, sounding surprised and impressed. "I thought the two of you were just going out there as… friends?"

Tanith rolled her eyes. "We _are_. It's just a necklace. He just bought me a necklace. We're just going to the Ball together. It's to save us the inconvenience of hunting down a partner we'd have to be 'romantic' with." She said the word 'romantic' as if it were something of a curse.

Ariane laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, right. Pull the other one, Cole, it's got bells on it. You just have fun tonight, you hear?" She patted her roommate on the shoulder lightly, then swept towards the door. "Grey might be a bit difficult, but he's a sweetheart really. You shouldn't toy with him like you do."

"I don't… toy…" Tanith spluttered, looking at Cal for support. Cal had none to give.

Ariane eyed him slightly, taking in his understated navy robes, and grinned at him. "Looking very dashing, Mister Brynmor. If Miles breaks his leg on the way down, come chat to me by the punch bowl." Her grin was full of toying, but Cal did have a mild inclination to make Bletchley trip up on the dance floor.

"Oh, I will. It can be arranged?" Cal raised his wand with a teasing smirk, and she laughed before she stepped out.

Tanith rolled her eyes. "That girl needs to be talked to about male-female relationships which don't necessarily have to be romantic. Tobias is a _friend_. You're a _friend_. Gabriel is a _friend_. Why can't it just be left at that?"

"You and Toby look more photogenic together?" Cal asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know. But… she does have something of a point. I was with Tobias as he tried to pick out that necklace. He spent ages agonising over it."

"That's what Tobias does. Spends ages agonising over the emotional things. He just wanted to be nice, rather than vaguely friendly, and that can be hard for him." Tanith fingered the small diamond pendant hanging off a chain around her neck. "Oh, he means well, but he can be hopeless."

"He's trying to handle it. And… he's doing more than being nice," Cal said, shifting his feet a little. "He's… haven't you been paying attention the last four months? The way he's just been uncomfortable around you more than usual? The way he glowers at Radimir?" He took a step forward. "Diamond necklace? You're an Aries? That's your starstone, you know." He tapped his breastbone. "Divination student talking here."

Tanith stared at him for a while, then buried her head in her hands. "Thank you, Brynmor. Thank you very bloody much. I was happily living in a sort of absent denial, until you managed to go and paint it clearly…"

Cal gaped for a minute. "You knew?" he asked slowly.

"Of course I knew! _Tobias _is the detached and unemotional one, not me. Thinks that if it can't be figured out with a book, it's not worth bothering with. Of _course _I've seen him in a twist lately, I've just been trying to work out how to deter him." Tanith groaned slowly.

"So… you don't feel the same way?" Cal felt horribly out of the loop.

Tanith looked at him slowly, her face a mask of regret. "Cal… Tobias is my friend, and I love him dearly. But not like that. And I think he himself is just stuck in this infatuation stage where he's still trying to figure out what he wants and has _decided _it's me. That's why I'm trying to let him down gently."

"Wait, let me get this straight – you're trying to let him down gently by agreeing to go to the Ball with him?" Cal seemed just further confused.

Tanith rolled her eyes. "I'm intending to talk to him. I just didn't want to disappoint him horribly and ruin our friendship by shooting him down nastily. Before he asked me, he asked if Dimitri had invited me to go with him. I said no, but… Dimitri _had_. I just said no to him because I didn't want to hurt Tobias." She straightened up. "So I'll talk to him tonight. Clear it all up."

"You're just as bad as him!" Cal exclaimed. "I mean, sure, you don't fancy him, and that's your choice. But… you're as romantically inept as each other! You couldn't have done it sooner?"

"I was going to. Then this bloody Ball cropped up." Tanith grimaced. "I'll find a way. And he'll get over it. He's the detached and unemotional one, remember?"

"He's a Scorpio. That doesn't add up." Cal grinned humourlessly as she shot a glare at him. "Seriously, though, I think you're selling him short on that. He's… well… let's just say that I know what he can be like. And… just let him down gently."

He looked down at the Recording Orb in his hand sadly, and hefted it slightly. "Now, I'm going to act like I've just come in, and you're going to play up for the Orb and act all pre-Ball-y, and we're going to pretend we didn't have _this _conversation, either…"

§

"Ah! Mister O'Neal and Miss Fielding! Good to see that there are such good relations within the Hufflepuff Quidditch team!" Gabriel Doyle gushed in a manner which seemed to Cal to be a bit over the top as Connor O'Neal and Beatrix Fielding approached the punch bowl.

"Drop dead, Doyle," O'Neal declared flatly, though he would have been unable to deny that there was a small smirk lurking around his lips as he poured himself and Fielding a glass of the punch, then eyed the Recording Orb Cal held. "And what is _that_?"

"I'm just recording the night for posterity, Connor. No worries," Cal reassured him, lifting the Orb a little. "And no, it's not for mocking. It would be Bletchley who'd do that, and he's too busy trying to seduce Ariane Drake." He jerked his head in the direction of the dance floor, where Miles Bletchley was, indeed, dancing more smoothly than anyone would have ever given him credit for with the aforementioned Drake.

"So this is just something you can wave around at the last night in the seventh year and we can all laugh at how stupid we look now?" Fielding asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped some of the punch. "That's nice of you, Caldwyn."

Cal flinched at the use of his full name, but nodded slightly. "Well, it's not just nice. I am a Slytherin after all, so I _do _have to have _something _reasonably sneaky in mind. Otherwise that wouldn't be playing fair, and all the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors would get confused – Ravenclaws wouldn't care," he elaborated as an afterthought.

There was a pause, and then O'Neal sighed. "Fine, I'll bite. What's your nefarious plan, Cal?"

"Well, the aforementioned nice little recording for nostalgia. But in ten years time, I intend to be made _rich _off this. I mean, if you, Connor, are a world-famous Quidditch star and you, Beatrix, the greatest Obliviator of your time, then I could sell this for a pretty penny to the _Quibbler_, couldn't I?" Cal explained, chuckling.

Gabriel smirked. "Or we could send it off to you and use it for blackmail. Either way, we get dirty rich. So I'd suggest you don't do anything you'd regret later. Or, if you do, maybe you pay us now to destroy it?"

"You can be disgusting, Doyle," O'Neal told him dryly, then shook his head and glanced at his glass of punch. "You didn't put anything in here, did you? Not traces of Firewhiskey, or some other substance you shouldn't have got your hands on?"

Gabriel shook his head innocently.

"Huh. Pity," Fielding mumbled, but made no further comment as she and O'Neal headed off, back to their table. Cal had seen them dancing earlier, and supposed that they were in need of something of a break for the time being.

Gabriel turned to face him, looking disgruntled. "I thought we decided that I could present them and ask how much of a wonderful evening they were having, just to confuse the hell out of them? They only wanted to talk to you!" he declared, rather put-out.

Cal shrugged. "I guess I'm just the nicer one to talk to." He aimed the Orb at Gabriel and straightened up. "I mean, no offence, Gabe, but they don't _like _you, and not many non-Slytherins do."

Gabriel scratched his chin. "Not many Slytherins do, for that matter," he said, not seeming particularly bothered by this state of affairs. "Oh, all right. Give me the Orb, and you can be the charming one who interviews everyone. But I want my share of the blackmailing money in ten year's time!"

"Gabe, I was kidding about that."

"Shut up. Not when _I _have the Orb, you're not."

So they lurked by the punch bowl, feeling mildly stupid in their dress robes without a partner in sight but each other, and partaking of the punch available. This bothered them mildly, but not enough to stop or go and dance – after all, who could they dance _with_? Thus they merely set about interviewing any couples who came by, like Nick Wilson and Jennifer Riley of Gryffindor, and made sure they could record _all _of it for posterity. And their own amusement.

So they interrogated Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang, and Gabriel leered at the latter whilst Cal tried to get the former to admit that he wanted to hire someone to 'dispose' of Durmstrang champion Viktor Krum. All in the name of the best for Hogwarts' school, of course.

Krum, it seemed, was currently standing with a very pretty girl that Cal didn't recognise, but Diggory swore blind that she was one of Harry Potter's friends. As she clearly couldn't be the Weasley, she had to be the mad-haired bookish one, but that seemed pretty outrageous to Cal. He thought it was a bit cruel of Diggory to be making jokes like that about competitors' friends, mocking them like that when they blatantly couldn't end up looking _that _good.

Once Diggory and Chang were gone, Cal gaped at Krum and his partner. "Do you think that's _really_ what's her face…" He glanced at Gabriel. "What _is _her name? Friend-of-Potter?"

"Granger. And I dunno, mate," Gabriel admitted, blinking. "Talk about coming out of a shell if it _is _her."

"Damn straight." Cal nodded slowly.

"The word you're looking for, my friend," Gabriel said, drawing himself up haughtily, his leer turning in the direction of Possibly-Granger, "is _hot_, or possibly… hell, what's Tobias doing?"

"That's four words…" Cal turned around to focus on where Gabriel was staring. Tobias and Tanith had actually been dancing for the last few songs, Tobias looking as if he was concentrating very hard on not stepping on toes – and actually succeeding – and Tanith actually seeming to have a good time. Now, Tobias appeared to be dragging her off the dance floor towards a corner which practically had a sign above it saying "Suitable Location for 'A Quiet Word'".

"Did you talk to Tanith?" Gabriel asked, shifting in an uncomfortable way that Cal wasn't used to his friend doing. Gabriel was _always _confident, about anything. If a horde of Death Eaters had suddenly decided to charge into the Great Hall and go on a killing spree, Gabriel would probably have sat them down, offered them a drink and then politely asked them to stop disrupting the Ball.

The weird thing was, though, that his suggestions tended to _work_. Maybe not on Death Eaters, mind, but…

"I spoke to her, yep," Cal said at last, nodding. "About Tobias, you mean?" Gabriel returned the nod. "She just said… that she had it in hand. And that we should have given her more credit, because she's not as blind as we seem to think she is." He shifted his feet. "_I _didn't know what was going on until last week," he admitted slowly.

"Yes, but Tanith has been obsessed with something _other _than how to sabotage the Durmstrang efforts in the Triwizard Tournament," Gabriel pointed out. "She's not dumb. I guess we should have figured she'd know what Tobias is about. He's not exactly a subtle fellow when he has to deal with his emotions."

"Well, that's sort of what Tanith said," Cal explained slowly. "Only, it's not. I mean, she said that Tobias seemed incapable of _having _any emotions, and that she didn't feel the same way about him. That she just saw him as a friend, like you or me."

"Yeah, but even without him fancying the hell out of her, he's _not _a friend to her like you or me. Her and Tobias have always had their thing going on. Little bit of bonding when a marauding basilisk's been on the loose. The prefect odds and sods. Actually giving a damn about the welfare of Slytherin house. They're not like us ordinary mortals, Caldwyn, they like to throw themselves into the impossible situations," Gabriel said, sighing deeply and shaking his head.

"It seems like Tobias _has_, if Tanith doesn't feel that way about him, whatever 'special bond' you seem to think they have," Cal mumbled.

Gabriel paused. "So why did she say yes to his ball invite? Why didn't she just go with Radimir? The ladies all love Radimir, and he's been drooling over Tanith since he arrived…" He waggled his eyebrows slightly. "And you can't say she hasn't been toying with him. Why do you think Tobias has been about to have a fit every time he's seen the Russian git?"

"Well, maybe she still didn't want to be _drooled _on. Playing and dancing and drooling are three very different things," Cal said, though he would admit he didn't exactly have expertise in this area. "And she said she said yes to Tobias and no to Radimir so as not to hurt Toby's feelings."

"So… she knows he likes her… she doesn't feel the same way… and she said _yes _to an invite to _the _romantic event of our Hogwarts school life?" Gabriel checked, a frown on his face as he ran through the scenario as it appeared to him.

Cal contemplated this. "She said… she'd tell him tonight as gently as she could?"

Gabriel stared. "As gently as she could? This is _Tanith_. Tobias will be throwing himself off the top of the Astronomy Tower by midnight!" A look of horror and – could it be? – actual concern for his friend was appearing on his face.

"She said she'd handle it!" Cal replied, a little hysterically. He wasn't entirely sure why, but his head was beginning to feel fuzzy, and he'd been leaning heavily against the table for the last fifteen minutes of the conversation.

"Why did you let her? You know what would make more sense? For us to take Tobias aside, explain the situation to him, and then let them both pretend that nothing had ever happened! Now it'll be… a confrontation… a horribly horrible confrontation, which will scar Tobias for life, and leave him convinced that he's worthless in the eyes of Tanith, who will be guilt-ridden and unable to look him in the face!" The hysteria was now hitting Gabriel, and Cal was getting quite worried as to what was making the unflappable Gabriel Doyle flap.

"…that _would _make more sense if we did that, wouldn't it," Cal conceded, scratching his chin and desperately trying to ignore the consequences of their failure. "Why didn't you _tell _me to do this sooner?" he demanded, whacking Doyle on the arm slightly.

"Because I thought Tanith was just as happy! I'm a bloke! I'm not _meant _to be able to read feelings, but Tobias had a huge _sign _on his chest saying 'I love Tanith Cole', and I figured that she'd read it too and the reason she hadn't hexed him to oblivion was because she felt the same way!" Gabriel began to gnaw on a fingernail.

Cal stared at the Quiet Word Corner. "You think we should go and interrupt them?" he asked, the thought slowly crossing his mind. "You know, idly, give them a drink, sit down as friends, _make sure they don't have this conversation_, and then explain to Tobias in the morning?"

Gabriel nodded firmly, grabbing Cal by the elbow. "Come on. Let's go. Before it's too late."

It may have not been too late for the conversation, but it was certainly too late for Cal to get there, as the moment Gabriel pulled him away from the table, his knees collapsed under him, and he felt himself sprawling towards Gabriel. Gabriel, although better off, wasn't _that _much better off, and thus couldn't quite resist the full weight of the muscular Quidditch player falling onto him.

They flew across towards the dance floor and collapsed in a heap, knocking a few others over in the process, and were unable to move for a few good seconds as their brains caught up with their bodies.

Cal slowly managed to disentangle himself from Gabriel, raising himself up on his elbows to look at his friend. "Sorry," he croaked slowly, clambering to his feet as best he could and bodily lifting the other boy upright as well. They swayed slightly, but leant on each other for support, both desperately trying to find co-ordination. "I just… wow. I feel weird…"

"Me too." Gabriel swallowed heavily, and they both staggered away from the dance floor, mumbling apologies to people, and sat down with thumps on the chairs next to the punch bowl, their mission forgotten.

Cal grabbed them both drinks. "It's hot in here. That's what it is. It's just… just hot. It's making us feel a bit woozy. Let's just sit down for a second, relax, and we can go about our business in a minute. Just drink this." He passed a beaker to Gabriel.

Gabriel raised it to his lips, and then stopped, eyeing the liquid. "Cal… are you sure this drink isn't spiked?" he asked, sniffing the punch with a dubious air.

"I don't know," Cal admitted, now eyeing his own drink cautiously. "I don't… _feel _drunk. Do you? I mean, I've got that fuzzy sort of feeling behind my eyes, but it's… different. Woah. Very weird."

"Should we interrogate the Weasley twins?" Gabriel asked, setting his beaker down.

"I dunno," Cal said again. "Where are they? Can we stand enough to go and find them? Can we interrogate them without throwing up on them?" He held the Recording Orb to him protectively.

"You think you're going to throw up?" Gabriel asked with alarm, more for his dress robes than his friend.

"No… I'm alright. I think." Cal shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as Gabriel rubbed his temples. "What were we going to do again? Just now, when we made absolute prats of ourselves?"

"I'm not sure," Gabriel said, looking furious with himself. Cal knew that Gabriel had rarely drunk with the others over the summer, not liking to lack control of his body. Cal could understand that, now. He had no objections to drinking alcohol on his own terms, when he could stop when he wanted. But this… felt like an abuse of some sort.

"But I do think we might not have prevented any of the rumours flying around happily about the two of us being gay," Gabriel continued.

"_What_?" Cal leapt to his feet, before his knees buckled once more and he sat back down heavily again. He paused, glancing around as everyone stared at them, then leant in to talk a touch more discreetly this time. "What?" he hissed.

"That we're gay," Gabriel said, looking distinctly unruffled. "You know – neither of us have a partner, we're hanging around each other all night, and we're _always _the two left whenever Tanith and Tobias are doing their thing."

"But… nobody says that about Montague and Pucey," Cal mumbled weakly.

"Montague and Pucey have partners tonight. And with us, the fact that everyone's convinced that half of our quartet want to shag each other means that, logically, the other half – i.e. us – want to shag each other too," Gabriel said eloquently.

Cal stared at him, then took a large gulp of his beaker of punch. "Come on. We have to go and save Tanith and Tobias from themselves. Either stop Toby or convince Tanith that Toby's the sexiest man alive and she wants him."

"I think we'll do better with the first aim," Gabriel said slowly, grimacing a little.

"Yeah, I know, but happy endings…"

Happy endings seemed to fall out of the window that very second, however, as Tobias weaved his way through the crowds, alone, to sit down next to them heavily. "Hey, guys," he mumbled, looking miserably.

"Crashed and burned?" Gabriel asked, far too chirpily.

Cal stomped on his foot. "Yeah… probably should have warned you about that. What did you do?" he asked quietly, passing Tobias a beaker of punch. It was spiked, but he looked as if he probably needed it.

Tobias took the punch but didn't drink it; just clutched the beaker in his hand as he stared ahead. "Oh, I just… sat her down. Made some mumbling, eloquent declaration of how I had begun to see her in a new light since the end of last year…"

"_That _recently?" Gabriel asked. They stared at him. "Oh, sorry. Go on."

"Yes, that recently," Tobias said heavily. "And then, I was stupid enough to take her silence as… well, I don't know what I took it as, but I was figuring that no news was good news, right? So that would be about when I tried to kiss her."

"Oh _God_." Gabriel buried his head in his hands. "You _moron_, Grey. You utter moron."

"Yeah, I think that was the gist of what she said, too." Tobias showed outward reaction to Gabriel's words, though – he seemed too shocked, stunned, and incapable of independent thought. "It was also about then she jumped up and said in a hurried rush that I was her friend, I was only her friend, and that she valued me as a friend but as nothing more. And then she said that she'd agreed to go to the ball with me because she felt _sorry_ for me." He gulped on his drink. "Then she said she was going back to the Common Room."

"Sorry for you?" Cal repeated incredulously. That wasn't what Tanith had said earlier. Well, in some sort of vague way, it was, but… well, she had expressed herself in the worst possible way. "You know… I think we should head back too. Get to bed. My head's going to explode," he said, pulling the beaker away from Tobias.

"I don't think I _can _sleep," Tobias mumbled dejectedly. "I just… I really thought it was… and now I've ruined _everything_. Even our friendship. And that was the last thing I wanted to happen."

"No… I think it can be recovered," Gabriel said slowly. "Just you two both need to agree that you're going to act like tonight never happened, and then you'll forget about it all. And you'll get over her. Plenty more fish in the sea."

"I don't want bloody fish." Tobias stared at his hands, then sighed again, sounding less angry. "Yeah… you're right. I mean… if she doesn't like me back… not much that I can do, is there? I should just… move on." He looked at the other two. "What did you two smuggle in here? I heard your crash from over in the corner."

"Oh, we… erm… there's something in the punch. It's not booze. We don't know what it is," Cal explained ineloquently.

"And you gave it to me without telling me?" Tobias asked incredulously.

"We thought you might need it," Gabriel contributed helpfully.

"Bastards," Tobias mumbled, sounding a little like his old self. He raised the beaker and sniffed it idly. Then he swirled the liquid around and eyed it dubiously. "It could be an Intoxicant Charm. Ideal for the alcoholic wizard who's had his drinks taken away from him. Pretty complicated charm."

"Weasley twins," Gabriel mumbled bitterly. "Can you give them detention?"

"Sure. If you feel like fishing me out of the lake afterwards," Tobias said, nodding. "Come on. Let's go back. I ought to get some sleep. And I'll work on an apology to Tanith, and we can go on from there. Just… forget it ever happened." He scowled. "Radimir better bloody stay away from her, though."

Cal patted him on the shoulder as he stood slowly, and managed to focus on keeping his knees straight. "Nah. She won't do anything with him if she thinks it'll hurt you, and you know it. She said to me right at the start of the evening that the last thing she wanted to do was hurt you."

"You _knew_?" Tobias asked, standing up incredulously. "You knew how she felt, and you didn't _tell _me?"

Gabriel stood up and began to drag the two of them uncertainly towards the door of the Great Hall, hopefully back over to the Slytherin Common Room. "We didn't get much of a chance, mate. Tanith said she had it all in hand. We were going to interrupt you when you had your 'talk' earlier, but that was when we fell over."

"Great." Tobias looked sulky again. "And now my rejection is to be plastered across the entire school. Wonderful."

"Oh, just cope, you great lug," Cal told him, patting him on the back heavily in a thinly-veiled effort to use him for support lest he fall over. "People don't know, and you can just get on with pretending it never happened.

"I'm not sure that's healthy," Tobias said uncertainly.

"Got any better ideas? _Talking it through_?" Gabriel scoffed.

"No," Tobias admitted.

The progress back to the Slytherin Common Room was slow but steady, and it wasn't long before they staggered into the abandoned room. The lower years had all gone to bed, and everyone else was mostly still down in the Great Hall, enjoying the ball. Gabriel and Tobias headed towards their room, but Cal waved them on.

"I'll be up in a minute. I just have to… do something."

They all knew the 'something' was to talk to Tanith, but left it unspoken, and Cal stepped up towards the girls' dormitory. He didn't like this. He felt even worse than he had at the conversation _before _the Ball, and he hadn't thought that was possible. Tanith was his friend, yes, but it was a very easy friendship, of Quidditch and Gryffindor baiting and homework. The deeper, more emotional matters had always been something Tanith had discussed with Tobias. Now the deep, emotional matters were _about _Tobias, and the thought of Gabriel having such a discussion with _anyone _was scary.

So it fell to Cal, and he squared his shoulders before knocking tentatively at the door to the fifth year girls' dormitory.

"Who is it?" Tanith's muffled voice came through the thick wood.

"Cal," Cal said quietly, then pushed the door open and stepped in as he head a mumble that could have been an invitation, but which was good enough for the charms anyway, allowing him into the room.

He stopped dead as he saw Tanith curled up on her bed, her eyes red. She'd been crying, and looked as if she might start again at any second.

This only served to confuse Cal yet further. Tanith had been crying. _Tanith _had been _crying_. Tanith, who didn't bat an eyelid at a single damn thing, whom he had only seen disturbed by something as major as the Dark Mark, had been crying. No, her solidity of spirit wasn't the same kind as Gabriel's, was more understated and less outrageous – Tanith seemed to be made of stern stuff that gave her a barrier; Gabriel just never appeared to _care _– but it was equally as formidable.

"Are you alright?" he asked stupidly, walking over towards the bed and pulling the stool by one of the desks over to it, so he could be close without intruding in some mad way – like sitting on her bed.

Tanith sat up, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. Her dress robes were crinkled and in need of a good ironing, the near-Muggle upbringing in Cal said. "No. Not really." A diamond necklace had been placed on the bedside table.

Cal shifted. "Tobias is… well, he's not looking great. But you know what he's like. He'll pull through this one."

"You didn't see the look in his eyes," Tanith mumbled miserably. "He just looked as if I'd kicked him in the stomach and called him a worthless half-breed I never wanted to see again. Worse. It was as if I'd just extinguished that little flame of excitement he always seems to have." She closed her eyes. "I never wanted to hurt him."

For one awful moment, Cal thought she was going to cry again, and stared at his hands uncomfortably. "Of course you didn't. I mean, that would have just been crappy. But this was inevitable, and it's good that it's done and you talked to him. Otherwise you'd have just been going on, confused, for ages. It's better this way."

"I think I've ruined _everything_, though!" Tanith declared, a slight sob catching in her voice. Cal wanted to run. "I don't know if he'll even be able to _look _at me in the morning. And I don't like him in that way, no, but he's my friend, and I _need _him as my friend…" She sniffed heavily.

"Look, I just think… Tobias has been humiliated and hurt," Cal said, as bluntly as he could manage. "But he hasn't been broken. You know what he's like. He bounces back. So you're just going to get up in the morning, smile at him, and talk about normal things. Pretend like it _never happened_. He'd thank you for it."

"I _do _want to forget it ever happened," Tanith mumbled unhappily.

"So does he. So just don't let it affect anything. He can deal with his own problems, and you two just keep being yourselves and be friends. No romance is worth the price of friendship," Cal said, patting her uncomfortably on the shoulder.

"You read that in a book somewhere," Tanith accused.

Cal chuckled. If she was making comments like that, then she had to be feeling better. "Yeah, but it's true. Now, I'm going to go to bed. You just… don't worry about it. Tobias is tough. He'll bounce back. Don't let it affect you."

Tanith nodded slowly as he stood up. "Thanks, Cal." She looked at him. "You're a good friend, too. You all are. I don't tell you that enough."

Cal smiled sheepishly. "Okay, now go back to being haughty Tanith, because this is beginning to scare me."

She laughed, and he felt a little warmer for having caused that. There was a brief pause as they looked at each other, then Tanith waved a hand at him. "Alright, get out, you great oaf. I don't really want you leering at me for the rest of the night.

"Leering? I'm offended," Cal declared, but he chuckled and bowed out the door obligingly. He had, he felt, done a certain amount of damage control.

Now they just all needed to forget the night had happened. And Cal needed to find out who had spiked the punch.


	5. September 1st, 1993 – Fourth Year

**September 1st, 1993**** – Fourth Year**

"…and you've remembered all of the books that you'll need?"

"Yes, mum."

"Even that old Arithmancy book from last year I saw stuck under your bed last night? Did you get it out?"

"Yes, mum. It's in my trunk."

"And Tibs? You have all of his food?"

"Mum, it's not as if they don't _provide _pet food at Hogwarts," Tobias sighed at his mother finally, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as they came to a halt on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, both of them oblivious to all of the mad hubbub of other students around them. It was twenty to eleven, and so there was no need to rush; it wasn't as if either of them were new to this routine.

Melissa Collins rested her hands on her hips and regarded her only son evaluatingly. "It's just as well, because you'd forget to feed him otherwise," she said at last, reaching down into the cage by Tobias' feet to lightly stroke behind the ears of the small grey and black tabby, Tiberius.

"That's not true!" Tobias protested weakly.

"Oh yes? So why is it he always lurks around _me _during the summer time? He knows he's more likely to get food out of me than you?" his mother challenged wryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

Tobias made a grumbling noise. "Just because you give him milk and I don't. It's bad for him, all the cat books say that."

"He's a cat. Cats drink milk. They like it, he can have it. He deserves it, for putting up with you, I'd think, anyway," Melissa said, straightening up and smirking at him.

"Thank you, mother dearest," Tobias mumbled dryly. "But what one 'likes' isn't always what one should get." His expression grew slightly more serious as he glanced around the station, taking in the hubbub of the mad crowd of students, all bustling to get on board the red Hogwarts Express.

"You grow up fast," Melissa told her son, not without her own wry tones. "You should be careful this year, Tobias." She nodded as he looked at her curiously. "I mean it. Sirius Black is around, Dementors are looking for him…"

"Oh, that won't affect Hogwarts. I'm more worried about you, mum!" Tobias said, looking at her honestly and not without a touch of concern. "A mad serial killer on the loose, he's not likely to stop by Hogwarts to pester students."

"I doubt he'd pester them. Just… just remember to not push it. I do remember the letters from Professor Snape for disturbances. You even had detentions, Tobias – you've _never _received detention in the past," Melissa continued, her warnings turning into chastisement, as was rather typical for most mothers.

"It was a difficult year," Tobias said, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "That's all about to change, though, mum. I told you. If I want a prefect badge, I'm going to need to keep my head above water, and that means no more run-ins with Gryffindors. I promise. I want to do it as much as you want me to."

Melissa sighed, and smiled a very little. "I know you've always aimed for things, Tobias. Just make your decision, choose what it is you want, and seize it… and don't let petty Gryffindors get in your way." Her smile broadened slightly. "And don't think I can't remember how annoying they are."

"They're nothing. Tanith hexed Wilson into a mess of boils and pus last year; they've backed off," Tobias said, shrugging dismissively. "I think the Slytherins have won this round."

Melissa laughed slightly, and patted her son's shoulders. "Not that I don't like seeing the age-old traditions of inter-house warfare being continued, I really don't want to see you in trouble anymore. So if you honestly _can't _help yourself, and have to make trouble with the Gryffindors, for Merlin's sake make sure you don't get caught!"

"Is that the Collins family motto?" Tobias asked with a smirk. "If you just can't help yourself, make sure you don't get caught?"

"It's the Grey one, too. Your father was as bad as you with homework," Melissa told him, shaking her head a little. "Now I'd suggest you get moving, or the Hufflepuffs will steal all the compartments. I remember what _they're _like, too." She gave the train a shrewd glance.

Tobias chuckled again, then stepped forward to hug his mother firmly. In recent years he'd reached the stage where he was actually taller than her; she was a fairly small woman, and even at the age of fourteen, he'd inherited enough of his father's height to stand above her and above all of his classmates.

It had always felt odd, leaving her at the beginning of every school year, and this year was no exception. After a childhood spent at a local Muggle school, which had been enough to convince Tobias that the only world he belonged in was the magical one, the inescapability of the boarding school set up at Hogwarts did tend to tug at him. Being an only child, with his father dead, for the longest time he and his mother had only had each other. That hadn't changed, and even though their lives had in ways that prevented them from always being around each other, the bond wasn't about to break.

When Tobias pulled back, his mother was wearing that broad smile she always had when she was trying not to cry. Rather preferring to avoid a complete emotional breakdown in the middle of the platform, he bent down to pick up his trunk with one hand, the other gently lifting the cage that securely held Tibs.

"I'll write to you by the end of the week," he said, nodding at her firmly.

Melissa returned the nod, seeming to have got more of a grip on herself by now. "I'll make sure to reply with Vesna, so you don't have to rely on the school owls all of the time. You really could have brought her with you, if you wanted to…"

"She'd never get on with Tibs. It's alright; she hangs around a few days in the owlery, so I'll have plenty of time to compose those letters. I don't think she knows if she belongs with you or me," Tobias said wryly, referring to one of the family owls. Considering Melissa's job with Gringotts, which regularly required quite a lot of correspondence, they relied on several birds around the house for all their letter-writing needs.

As Tobias turned away and headed for the nearest door up onto the train, it didn't take long before he was intercepted by a boy with dark hair that was already distinctly longer than he ever remembered it being.

"Ahah! Freedom from the parental units. I suppose we've got another year of liberty ahead of us, hey, Grey?" His new companion clapped him on the back lightly as he dragged a small and smart case behind him that put Tobias' faintly raggedy trunk to shame.

"Liberty, save from the teachers, and Filch, and what have you," Tobias sighed, giving Gabriel a sideways glance and wondering if his friend had ever had a haircut in all the time he'd known him. He was definitely pushing the floppy fringe out of his eyes a lot more than he'd had to in recent months.

"Well, _apart _from that… they can be dodged easily," Gabriel declared, shrugging.

"Sure. If you can turn invisible."

"Hey, compared to my mother, that's an improvement. She'd be able to see me even if I _did _have an invisibility cloak. Which I don't." Gabriel paused as he lifted his trunk onto the train, glancing back to look at Tobias. "You don't have one, do you?"

"No! What made you think that?"

"I don't know. I just figured one of us ought to have been able to get our hands on one, so I thought I'd might as well ask. You're the mysterious one, remember?" Gabriel declared, hopping onto the train and disappearing down the corridor before Tobias could even heft his own luggage on board.

"I thought that was you," he mumbled under his breath as he wrestled trunk and cat up the short steps leading to the doorway, then putting them down on the floor of the train heavily. He clambered up afterwards, standing tall at the doorway and looking back out across the platform, taking in the deep, cleansing breaths of… station air. Faces were hard to discern in the crowds of students and families still present, and try as he might to hunt for his mother back where he'd left her, underneath the clock, she was gone. Maybe she'd left; she wasn't the sort to sit sentimentally and wave the train as it disappeared. That just wasn't the way of either of them; they tended to be more understated in their affection. They'd both agree it would be a waste of time to wait until the train moved across the horizon or around the next bend…

"Are you going to help me with this, or just stare into space uselessly until the train moves and you fall out onto the platform? Or, possibly better, the track next to this one? Because you're standing there looking like you've just been hexed to hell and have had all of your cognitive functions ripped away from you. Not that this is a novel development, of course."

The sharp voice reached Tobias' ears rapidly and, indeed, did the intended job of jerking him out of his reverie. Most people would have reacted curtly to such words, but he had recognised the speaker and thus there was no need for a harsh retaliation. Well, it wouldn't get him anywhere.

"It's nice to see you too, Tanith," he declared, reaching down and picking up the trunk she had half-lifted onto the train, not without difficulty. He didn't want to _know _what she'd managed to fit in there, but it was definitely enough to strain a muscle. He had no idea how she'd even got this far with it.

Tanith smirked at him as she hopped onto the train after the trunk, and lifted it a little. "Well, I _would_ go for a nice greeting, but that seems like a waste of time. Are you just here on your own, waiting for me to come along and fulfil your life?"

Tobias gave her a long look. "Yes, that's _exactly _it," he said dryly, shaking his head. "No, Gabriel was here a second ago. No sign of Cal, it seems. He went off… uh… this way…" He gathered his trunk and Tibs' cage, and headed off down the corridor of the train in the direction Gabriel had set off in.

Fortuitously, the train wasn't too full, considering they had a good fifteen minutes before departure and most people were still on the station, dealing with the madness. Thus there weren't too many bodies to push through, or would-be-tripping feet sticking out to hop over as they made their way down the compartment. They passed the door of one where Gryffindor pain-in-the-rears (in Tobias' opinion) Andy Harding and Nick Wilson sat, and Wilson opened his mouth for a jeer at the sight of Tobias, but seeing Tanith trotting after him gave him pause for thought.

Tanith and Tobias waited until they were past to exchange a smirk, but a smirk was exchanged; it seemed as if Wilson hadn't forgotten his encounter with her last year. Now that was _definitely _a point scored in favour of Slytherin.

Finally, approaching the end of the carriage, they found the compartment Gabriel had settled upon; and it turned out he'd been successful in finding Cal, too, for the pair of them were already engineering Gabriel's trunk into the overhead rack, Cal's safely stored beside it.

Tanith gave Tobias a pointed yet not unamused look, and with a sigh he lifted hers. It was only half a joke, though, for she did give him a hand in manoeuvring the heavy case into the rack above, though once it was settled didn't wait to return the favour; merely seated herself promptly at one of the window seats. Tobias rolled his eyes, stowing his own trunk, then sat down next to her as Cal and Gabriel claimed the opposite bench.

"Well, that was more hassle than it should have been," Cal sighed, nodding to them both. "Did anybody else find the streets of London to be mad than usual? Traffic was just insane. I don't know if the Muggles have something on, or what."

Tobias shrugged. "I don't know… I got the Portkey in, as per usual…" Tanith made a noise of agreement.

Cal nodded again. "Ah. Well, Will drove in; he insisted on it, though I don't see what's wrong with the Portkey myself. It's just as well he has an early shift today, otherwise we'd have been late; though without the traffic, I guess I'd have been sitting here since quarter past ten, and _that _would have been boring, let me tell you."

Gabriel looked confused. "What did a car have to do with the traffic? Dad drove me in; I'm here fine…"

"A Muggle car, Gabe," Cal explained. "Will owns one. Well, it's not _completely _Muggle, because it would have been a pretty huge drive down from the Peak District, let me tell you… all registered, and everything!" he added, keenly aware he was sitting next to the son of the Director of the Department of Magical Transportation.

Gabriel shrugged. "As long as it gets you from A to B, I don't give a rat's arse _what _it does. It just seems like a load of unnecessary hassle to have a car where you can't just skip in and out of the Muggles. They never notice a thing; it'd be a minor enchantment, mate…"

"I dunno. Will has his mad tendencies." Cal shrugged.

"Yeah, well, Muggle-borns."

Tanith clearly decided this was a good time to intervene; and she was probably right, considering the sharp glance from Cal Gabriel's comment had won. "So, anything interesting done over the summer? No holidays?"

Gabriel raised a hand slightly. "Prague. Nice place. Great wizarding history… not that I'm particularly interested in it, but it was sort of pleasant, I guess." He nodded at Tobias. "You'd have loved it."

"Then send me in your place next time, you philistine, instead of having great cities wasted on you as I kick around Sussex all bloody summer with nothing but my books, my cat and my mother for company," Tobias told him, rolling his eyes as he released the aforementioned cat from the cage. Tibs stretched and sauntered out, before beginning to prowl around the compartment with a sense of ownership.

Cal eyed the feline dubiously. "Does he have to do that?"

"He's been cooped up a while. Give him a minute, and he'll settle on a knee, don't worry," Tobias declared, stroking Tibs' soft fur slightly.

"Just as long as it's not _my _knee, we're fine." Cal shook his head, then glanced back at Gabriel. "You have an easy time of it, Gabe. The most exotic thing I saw this summer was _another _bloody hill. I mean, I like the Peak District and all, but it would be nice to get away for once."

"I suppose Rayner's work doesn't exactly encourage holidays," Gabriel sighed.

"Nope. Never been anywhere, me," Cal said, shaking his head.

Tobias blinked at him. "You're kidding. Never been on holiday?"

"Not unless you count Skegness."

Tobias wrinkled his nose. "I don't." He shook his head. "You know, once we're of age and out of school, we need to go on a world tour, or something. See the sights. I've only ever been to France, mind, never anywhere further afield, but I'd like to see more of the world. It's one of my aims."

"One of many. Surely to become Minister of Magic, you need to stay in this country?" Tanith asked with an amused air.

Tobias gave her a look as the whistle blew and the Hogwarts Express slowly came to life, gently pulling away from the station. None of them had anybody to lean out of windows and say goodbye to, he noted wryly.

"I never said anything about wanting to become Minister of Magic," he corrected her. "Or even working for the ministry."

"Yeah, I know." Tanith glanced out the window. "But, bloke like you… you're headed somewhere at the top. Might as well be the very top."

"Can you see me stomaching all of that paperwork?" Tobias scoffed. "I have trouble with Snape's essays!"

"But you do them, which is more than I do," Cal offered, raising a hand. "Last minute, or with many excuses, but they get done. And you regularly get the better marks than any of us."

"Well, Tanith does better than me at Potions," Tobias pointed out.

"Just because she's Snape's pet," Gabriel replied, and Tanith smirked.

"Snape has no pets. Only brilliant students and stupid ones. Unfortunately for you, very few make it into the former category," Tanith declared, chuckling a little.

"Well, in Potions. Of our year, I think he tolerates me more than some of the other idiots," Tobias mumbled. "I swear I thought he was going to kill Pucey last year when he hexed that member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And he was right; it shouldn't have been done."

Gabriel waved his hand dismissively. "Spinnet's a Gryffindor; that means she deserves it. Snape just cracked down on Pucey because he can't exactly let that sort of thing go unpunished, but I bet you he applauds it."

"Oh, trying to get into the minds of teachers now, are we, Doyle?" Tanith asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying, he gets this look in his eye that he approves whenever he tells you off for hexing a Gryffindor," Gabriel declared, shrugging. He gave Tanith a piercing look. "Don't tell me something about him wasn't smiling when he ripped into you for hexing Wilson last year?"

"Snape never bloody smiles," Tobias mumbled.

He was ignored by Tanith, who nodded a little. "I suppose he did seem faintly... amused. Didn't stop the detention, mind."

"Well, that's Snape. If it were any other teacher, it would have been detention for a _week_, not a day. But a bit of him approves of these wars of ours," Gabriel said, leaning back in his seat.

"Great. So he approves of Montague baiting the first-year Hufflepuff Muggle-borns?" Cal asked, looking distinctly unamused.

"Probably," Gabriel declared, not pushing his dark hair back from where it had flopped into his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Caldwyn, the man was a Death Eater. He's going to have had no love for Muggle-borns."

"That's just a rumour, Gabe," Tobias tried to correct, but weakly and knowing it would fail.

"Yeah, with an ounce of truth in it. You look at that man, and tell me you see him in _any _other role in the war?" Gabriel was smirking now, in that knowing way which Tobias knew was more annoying than even his own knowledgeable grin. "Come on, you think he was an Auror or something?"

"There's a line between Death Eater and Auror. Lots of lines, actually," Cal mumbled. "I don't think he was a Death Eater. He wouldn't _be _here if he were a Death Eater. You think Dumbledore would allow a dark wizard to teach at Hogwarts?"

"I'm not saying he's a risk. But that's just all the rumours have been retelling, and I can see it quite clearly, myself," Gabriel sighed, shrugging.

"Well, they're just rumours," Tanith said disarmingly, "so it's probably best to not encourage them or act on them. Honestly, if Snape's _not_, do you think he'd be particularly happy if he knew such rumours were going around? It's a pretty tall accusation."

"Snape's a pretty tall bloke," Cal mumbled, but with a smirk that let her know the matter had been dropped of the venom it had held for them all. Tobias marvelled at how they functioned as friends at all, with the regular head-butting. Granted, said head-butting was mostly caused by Gabriel winding up Tobias or Cal, and the fact that he didn't seem to care merely encouraged more anger in the pair of them.

Tobias turned to Tanith. "You went somewhere this summer, didn't you," he said wryly. "I can tell. That's why you asked. You had a great time somewhere…"

"Tobias!" Tanith looked offended. "Why would you imply that I would start a conversation asking about _other _people if the intention was to draw the talking back around to myself? That would just be megalomania of the highest order!"

"Yeah, I know… it's because I know you, see," Tobias retorted, smirking.

Tanith shook her head. "Well, alright. It was just northern Italy. Mum and Dad have a little villa in Tuscany out there…" She had the good grace to look sheepish at this, and Tobias noted, not for the first time and not without a little wonder, at how easily she managed to display her family's wealth and yet how quickly she seemed embarrassed of it.

The fact remained that there _were _certain class boundaries between them. Tanith _did _come from a family of wealth, breeding and influence, and had never known anything else. Tobias, although a half-blood, came from a very old and respectable wizarding house on his mother's side; not quite of the standard of the ancient wizarding names such as Black, Malfoy, Drake… or even Cole, though his Muggle father tended to lose him any ground this gained with those who put stock in blood.

Cal's parents had been pure-blood… and a pair of Death Eaters, the both of them, so that hadn't counted for much in the long run; the fact that he had been raised by a Muggle-born wizard only strengthened the boy's lack of respect for blood. And Gabriel's family had the breeding and influence, but not quite the wealth of past generations, by all accounts. Tobias knew this to be a comparative term, and thus wasn't entirely sure it was that much of a limitation.

This was why the four of them tended to get quite heated in discussions of politics or inheritance. It had taken some time indeed to find a balance, and the equilibrium had proven to be easily disrupted in the past.

Of course, with a long train journey ahead of them, conversation topics could sometimes peter out so they were left with nothing _but _the inflammatory. Past trips to and from Hogwarts had at least imbued them with the sense to avoid talking at all in such an event.

About three hours in, when the sun was high in the sky and conveniently shining directly through the window into their compartment just so they would be blinded by the light, or heated to an almost unbearable level, they had decided to rely on silence. The heat had caused both Cal and Gabriel to drift off, both lounged back in their seats on their side of the compartment.

Tobias had long ago fished out a book to read; he'd uncovered his father's collection of books over the summer, and although he wasn't particularly sure he _liked _the odd Muggle called Hemingway, if Robert Grey had thought there was something of value in this literature, then he was intent on giving it a go.

It was rather distracting, mind, to have the scratching of pencil against paper in his right ear, for that was all he could hear once Tanith had set to work with a sketchbook she'd managed to wriggle out of her over-stuffed trunk. Seeing his friend scribbling away at something wasn't an unusual sight; it was what she tended to do in a quiet time, when something was needed to fill monotony. Just, right then, it was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"What _are _you doing?" he had to ask at last, setting down his copy of _A Farewell to Arms_. "Trying to make the lead bore a hole in the paper? Because that's what it sounds like."

Tanith ignored him, still sketching away. She raised a finger of her free hand to her lips, then nodded across the compartment to where Cal and Gabriel sat snoozing. "Shh. You'll wake them up."

"And what a pity that'll be. Maybe they'll actually be sociable travelling companions," Tobias mumbled bitterly.

"You were the one who started reading. I only picked up my sketchbook afterwards."

"You were reading the crappy magazine!"

"Of _course _I was reading the crappy magazine! There wasn't much else to do. But you should probably know by now, Grey, that I'll happily give up reading a crappy magazine the moment anything more interesting comes along. And so many things are more interesting than crappy magazines that even you would be a welcome diversion." She had stopped drawing now, and was fixing him with a half-glare.

Tobias sighed, slipping a bookmark in between the pages of his reading material and setting it to one side. "What _were _you drawing, anyway?" he asked, leaning towards her thoughtlessly to try and peer over her shoulder.

There was a pause as Tanith instinctively pulled the sketchpad away, then grimaced and straightened up so that he could see it. It was, quite simply, a drawing of both Cal and Gabriel sound asleep next to each other, both looking as if it would take a thunderstorm to wake them both. It was also, Tobias had to admit, pretty damn good.

"Nice," he said honestly, nodding and glancing at the two slumbering friends before he paused, fixing her with a quizzical expression. "Why the static drawing, though? Surely the wizarding way of this would have the two of them moving."

Tanith ignored him for a minute, continuing with her sketching. "Firstly," she said slowly ay last, "they're asleep. There's not much movement to capture. And secondly… sometimes the Muggles have the right idea with their static pictures."

Tobias raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes the Muggles… is the apocalypse coming, or are my ears deceiving me that Tanith Cole mentioned that the Muggle way of doing _anything _might be better?"

Tanith rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying that many pictures aren't about the subject; it's about the drawing itself, and sometimes capturing a single moment, a second of life, is more effective than necessarily holding a perfect duplicate of your subject on paper." She sighed, looking over at him wearily. "Movement's all very well for Chocolate Frog Cards and even the portraits around school, but for something devoted more to art for art's sake… well… sometimes wizards get too caught up in being flashy because they can."

"Again, you're saying that the Muggle way of doing things can be better," Tobias told her, his smirk broadening.

She sighed again, this time with exasperation. "No. Muggles are limited because they don't have the choice. Wizards are limited because they don't recognise the choice is there. Sometimes simpler _is _better; magic isn't the way forwards for everything."

Tobias was eyeing her suspiciously by now. "I never knew you felt like this about things."

"Well, this is what happens when you have a Squib for a tutor." Tanith glanced up at him. "Altair has always shown me that it can be best to do something without magic, if at all possible. I think he's often _wrong _about it, but when it comes to art, he has a point. Just because I _could _make these pictures move doesn't mean I should. It would ruin the entire ambiance of the piece."

Tobias continued to look at her suspiciously, before he shook his head and picked up his book again, wondering if he'd ever understand this war the Muggles were going on about between the pages. "You're mad," he declared at last, scratching behind Tibs' ears as the cat shifted in his sleep a little, then decided to promptly ignore her.

§

"This is bent," Cal decided at last as he shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. He sighed deeply, but nevertheless returned his gaze to Tanith. "Alright, next question, then. If you must."

"I must. I'm bored. And these sorts of things are always interesting," Tanith insisted, turning a page in her magazine. "Alright, alright. Last question. _'The only thing in your wardrobe to wear is a slinky red dress that shows off more of your body than another item of clothing might. When you turn up at dinner, your date clearly can't take his eyes off you – he's practically drooling.'_"

"Very attractive, I'm sure," Gabriel snickered, his gaze fixed on the darkness outside the window of their compartment even though he was clearly listening..

Tanith ignored him. "So… _'Do you: A) Accept the obvious interest gladly. After all, revealing dresses are the only ones you own, so the last one left in your wardrobe is no exception to your usual garb. B) Act uncomfortable throughout the evening. You only wore this dress because you felt daring, but now he's staring at you, you've lost your nerve. C) Make an excuse to go to the bathroom, and there try to secure your dress and preserve your modesty by making adjustments. This really was the last thing left in your wardrobe of otherwise-sensible clothing, and you didn't have much of a choice'._"

Cal scowled. "I tell him to stop drooling over me, and if he doesn't, then I punch his lights out."

Tanith smirked. "That's not one of the options."

"It's new, Secret Option D," Cal replied stoically.

"You've chosen that every time. If there's a 'Mainly Secret Option D' results page, then it's going to tell you that you're a scary gay transvestite who ought to not let women test you with their girly magazines," Gabriel said dryly. He had been watching the proceedings since the start, and interjecting with his own comments at every opportunity.

Cal groaned. "Alright, A. If I'm going to be _put _in this position, I ought to at least make the most of it. Let's give the pervy bastard a show."

"You _do _scare me, Cal," Gabriel said, glancing over at his friend at last.

"Good. At least I'm not going to be ignored," Cal grumbled, looking over at Tanith. "So? What are my results?"

"I'm just adding up your points, hang on," Tanith told him sharply. "Don't be so impatient."

Tobias shifted behind his newspaper, which hid him from view. "No, because we're all _dying _of anticipation here to find out what sort of date Cal is." He had been snippety ever since Gabriel and Cal had woken up and Tanith had collared Cal for the quiz, not taking part and with his attention completely focused on his reading matter.

Tanith ignored him. "Alright! Thirty-two points. That's the first category. _'You certainly are one confident girl, and it's not likely that any bloke you go on a date with will forget the experience very quickly. You've got assets and are proud of them, are definitely not a boring conversationalist, and always know **exactly **what you want out of the evening. But beware; your strident manner and predatory sexuality might just scare off any dinner companions; sometimes it's a good idea to hold back'._"

Cal stared at her. "Oh… good. I think. I'm a sex beast?"

"Apparently," Gabriel snickered.

"What else is new?" Tobias mumbled, still hidden behind his paper. "Surely you had something to do that might have been more worthwhile, Tanith, because that really was a waste of bloody time."

"We're stuck on a train, Grey. There's still a way left before Hogwarts. We're bored, and we're entertaining ourselves. What else do you expect us to do?" Tanith retorted, giving him a glare.

Cal raised a hand slightly. "Actually, Tanith, _you _were just entertaining yourself at my expense. I'm not sure that's fair."

Gabriel shrugged. "I was amused."

"Shut it."

"And what were _you _doing that was so exciting, huh?" Tanith continued as she glared at Tobias, speaking as if Cal and Gabriel had remained silent. "Sitting there reading the paper for an hour instead of being sociable? Gripping!"

"Yeah; there's only so much to be found in the _Daily Prophet _before it gets dull. Unless you're like Cal and can be entertained by the cartoon section for hours," Gabriel added, nodding his head wisely and shifting away from the light, teasing punch Cal aimed at his shoulder.

"It's not the _Daily Prophet_," Tobias said, a little haughtily, though with the air of one who knows his friends know perfectly well what he's doing and are getting it wrong to just to annoy him. "You know I don't read that piece of Ministry-controlled propaganda."

"Oh, great. You're reading the _Clarion _again? You really ought to avoid pieces of political clap-trap run by Muggle-loving, monster-right-demanding, house-elf-liberating lefty wizards," Gabriel groaned melodramatically, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hands.

"It's _not _any of those things, and you know it. It is an alternative paper for the wizard who likes to think outside of the box and doesn't swallow everything the establishment had to offer. Fudge is an idiot, the Ministry are controlled by old, influential and reactionary families who are more interested in preserving the status quo than doing what's best for wizardkind." Tobias lowered the _Clarion _slowly, giving them all dubious looks. "I know this paper can be extreme, and I take what I read with a pinch of salt. But at least I do my best to enlighten myself as to what's going on beyond the limitations of my own life, which is more than any of _you _do."

"Hey, that's harsh, Grey, I read the _Prophet _if I have the time and Doyle has a daily subscription," Tanith protested.

"Only because his parents have paid for it and think that he's educating himself to become a more well-rounded wizard and member of society," Tobias mumbled, lifting the paper a little.

Gabriel shrugged. "He's got a point; I don't read it. When I give it to you, Tanith, it's often untouched unless there's something major in the headlines." He looked back at Tanith and Cal, ignoring Tobias for now.

"This paper does not advocate giving any monster rights, or freeing house elves, or any other such insane ideologies… well, not much," Tobias conceded, but he had fixed Gabriel with a glare as he spoke. "But a day may come when you'll thank the _Clarion _for not being controlled by the Ministry, like the _Prophet_."

"And on that day, Tobias, I'll pick up the _Quibbler _for entertainment," Gabriel sneered.

"The _Clarion _cannot be compared to the _Quibbler_!" Tobias protested, sitting up. "One's actually a respectable form of journalism…"

Just as Cal was considering intervening – because Tanith looked as if she wasn't about to, and thus he would have been left with the unenviable position of playing peacemaker – he was fortunately saved the effort by the lights flickering above them briefly, then dying.

The argument was, indeed, forgotten in that instant as they all half-leapt to their feet, rather impeded by the lack of space in the compartment, and mostly bumped into each other before deciding to remain seated. Any curses were also cut off by the faint screech of breaks and noticeable adjustment in the train's speed.

Tanith pressed her face against the glass of the window. Cal doubted she could see much more out there than the darkness of a Scottish evening, but still waited quietly for any available information. This was _not _a usual occurrence on board the Hogwarts Express.

"We've stopped moving," Tanith said, her voice cold and a little empty. Cal wondered if this was about as afraid as Tanith Cole ever got.

"That's odd… I wonder what it might be…" Tobias murmured, surprisingly calmly. Cal couldn't quite believe that he was treating this incident with his usual scholarly and inquisitive curiosity. It was a very Tobias-like thing to do, just baffling to Cal.

"I don't know, but _somebody's _coming on board," Tanith said grimly, tearing her gaze away from the window. "I can see shapes moving out there. I don't know what… and why did the lights go out?"

Gabriel, who by now had had the presence of mind to rapidly cast _Lumos_, shifted his wand in her direction. "Because otherwise they can't make us panic quite as well," he said grimly, also without his usually buoyant nature that Cal had by now accepted Gabriel Doyle faced the entire world with.

"There's probably just something wrong with the train, which is why you can see people out there; it's almost certainly the driver trying to work out what's gone wrong," Tobias groaned, pulling out his own wand and pointing it at his newspaper, returning to reading.

Cal reached out and snatched the copy of the _Clarion _away from Tobias urgently. His ears pricked up as he heard a creaking, and glances at the faces of the others confirmed that he wasn't just imagining footsteps. "Then why the hell haven't they sent out a nice message telling us not to panic."

"I don't know, but panicking sounds good, as they haven't expressly forgiven it," Gabriel declared, tightening his grip on his wand.

"Look, I'm sure it's… nothing…" Tobias's voice trailed off as a slight chill filled the compartment. Cal found himself shivering slightly at the subtle yet rather noticeable difference, and any reassuring dismissals of Tobias's ended at the sight of the shadow moving outside the compartment door.

Gabriel bit out a curse, then stood hurriedly. "I've had enough of this," he said, though his voice shook a very little as he stepped forwards. "I'm just going to ask, right now, what in Merlin's name is going on…"

But his decisiveness froze as he yanked the compartment door open, falling back a step when a tall shape in billowing black robes was silhouetted standing in the corridor. Silence was heavily upon them, broken only by a deep, rattling breath being drawn that chilled Cal yet further.

He knew what this was. How could he not, with his heritage? To be so keenly aware of Azkaban prison as he was, Cal could not fail to recognise a Dementor when he saw one… not that he had ever encountered one before.

But such a train of thought disappeared the moment his eyes fixed on the monstrous form, and voices filled his head – voices that definitely weren't those of his friends, who had all fallen similarly deathly silent.

_"Come on, Caldwyn… down here, into the cellar. Just hide – don't say anything, and I'll come and get you when it's all over!"_

_"But… I…"_

_"Don't argue, child! Just pipe down, and get in there…"_

_A cellar door closing. Footsteps pounding above. Complete darkness. Then the loud **thump **of the door being thrown open above, and voices, muffled for the most part, filtering through the ceiling. A flash of sound, magical energy, filling the air all over…_

_"**This **is how servants of the Dark Lord repay his enemies!"_

_"Your vaunted Dark Lord is **dead**, Robb. You're clinging to a pointless way of existence…"_

_"Perhaps… but then maybe you can find out when you join him, Rayner!"_

_"Actually, no. See, I may be no angel, but I doubt I've got the lowest level of hell reserved for me…"_

"Caldwyn! Caldwyn!"

The lights were flickering back on when Cal blinked to realise he was being shaken by Gabriel, rather firmly, and that the shadowy shape of the Dementor was definitely gone. The other three looked pretty much as bad as he felt.

That was strange. He knew what effect the Dementors were meant to have on people, but to experience it was probably the most draining event of his entire life. Though Idaeus Robb and his Death Eater cronies had failed to kill Will, thanks to the rapid response of the Magical Law Enforcement officers, and Robb had in fact ended in Azkaban, even being five years old had not prevented Cal from being utterly convinced he was about to die.

"They're gone," Tobias was saying, his head stuck out of the compartment door. He had gone a strangely green colour which, with the darkness of his robes, made him look intensively ill. Or ghostly. Or both. Then again, Cal didn't think he'd have the nerve to check the corridor himself, so mocking Tobias would be rather unfair.

"And we're moving again," a rather pale Tanith added from where she was bundled in the corner under Tobias' cloak. She shivered slightly, and drew it up to her chin a little tighter, peering out of the window. "So… I guess… that was just a… small hiccup?"

"Something like that," Cal mumbled. "Why… _why_… did we have Dementors on board?"

Gabriel and Tanith exchanged glances. Out in the corridor, Tobias seemed locked in conversation with Jacob Van Roden, one of the first reasonable Slytherin prefects the house had seen in years. He seemed to be doing the rounds, making sure others were in one piece.

"Sirius Black is my guess," Gabriel said. "But are you alright? You went all stiff for a second there… your eyes just sort of went out of focus."

"I'm fine," Cal said roughly. "Still… was that… weird for anyone else?" He glanced at them quickly, even though he knew they'd be quite mad to have been unaffected by the influence of a Dementor.

"Of course it was weird," Tobias mumbled, closing the compartment door. "It was a Dementor. It's not meant to be cheerful." He forced a smile that was so transparent it actually made Cal feel worse. "Still… we're okay, aren't we? Van Roden said somebody fainted, but he doesn't know who."

"Don't entirely blame them," Cal groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let's just… just make sure that doesn't happen again, okay? That was freaky."

Still, as the train sped away, back on track for the journey to Hogwarts, Cal was distinctly aware of the fact that controlling whether or not he would have any future encounters with Dementors was quite beyond his power.

§

"The man," Tanith mumbled as she and Tobias slouched along the corridors of Hogwarts three days later, "is a tramp. Why would I want to be taught by a tramp? Do _you _know any tramps who've been in possession of particular pearls of wisdom that have enriched your life? Because I sure as hell don't."

Tobias scratched at his chin, and hefted his bag on his shoulder, stepping around a gaggle of Ravenclaw first-years who seemed surprisingly at ease in their surroundings for students who were new to the school. "Does Cal count?"

"No, Cal does _not _count. Brynmor does not walk around in scruffy robes with patches all over them, looking like he's in need of a good night's sleep. Brynmor does not appear as if he's going to drop dead any time soon. Lupin, on the other hand, thanks to crazed hair and that constantly semi-conscious expression of his, _does_," Tanith said snappishly, giving him a sideways glare.

Two days into lessons at Hogwarts, and they were already having slight issues with their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Tobias sighed. "Since when did you have such an obsession with the appearance of our teachers? Save last year, when you branded Professor Lockhart an arrogant jerk locked in the styles of the 19th century… not that you weren't right, of course."

Tanith threw him a look of intense irritation. Tobias briefly wondered why he always allowed himself to be her verbal punching bag, but was too overwhelmed with relief at the fact that he wasn't a _physical _punching bag to truly analyse this phenomenon.

"I'm just saying that Professor Lupin looks like he's had too much of an encounter with the Dark Arts to really teach us about them. And by that, I mean he looks like he's done five rounds with some deranged pixies," Tanith explained, faintly vexed.

"Deranged pixies?" Tobias echoed sceptically. "Are those actually dangerous?"

"Shut up, Grey."

At this most common of instructions to be uttered by Tanith, Tobias decided it would probably be best to comply, especially as they turned the corner to approach the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, where the rest of the Slytherins in their year were assembled.

Cal and Gabriel were waiting already, lounging against the wall next to where Montague was laughing about something rather loudly with Bletchley. Tobias didn't particularly _want _to hear the topic at hand, but it was pretty difficult to avoid the bellowing voice of the Quidditch player.

"…the look on that Gryffindor's _face _when Warrington turned up!" Montague was cackling. "He thought it was his freedom! The good and mighty prefect here to save him from the nasty, bullying Slytherins!"

"He realised soon enough that Warrington was just coming to join in, didn't he!" Bletchley laughed. "Oh, he's a nasty one, that Warrington." There was little sympathy or shame in their housemates' voices. "A right joker."

Tobias' expression dropped, and he slowed his pace, Tanith falling into step beside him. "Yeah. A regular comedian, that Caspian Warrington," he mumbled bitterly. "Does Dumbledore give prefect badges to bullies in Slytherin to try and ruin our house more, or is he just too dumb to notice people?"

"Don't underestimate Snape's influence," Tanith replied. "Besides, I doubt they did anything all _that _bad. I mean, they're just messing around. They'd have their badges taken away from them if they were really that terrible."

Tobias smiled humourlessly, stepping over to where Montague, Pucey and Bletchley stood laughing. "Hey, guys," he greeted them with convincing false cheer. "What's the joke that I missed? Some Gryffindors decided to get uppity?"

"Yeah." Bletchley smirked. "A couple of Mudbloods thought it might be fun to set off some dungbombs in the corridors, so we tried to stop them."

"See? Maintaining law and order about the school," Tanith said to Tobias, nudging him quickly. "Doesn't that sound quite fair and even? Keeping up the spirit of fairness and not letting little Gryffindor gits get uppity?"

"Yeah. You're true paragons of justice," Tobias, who had flinched at Bletchley's use of 'Mudblood', said blandly. "What'd you do to them, then? Seeing as you're not prefects and all…"

"Oh, just threatened to hex them if they set off any dungbombs anywhere near us." Montague smirked. "I hate getting dungbombs on my boots, you see. They make a right mess."

"Indeed they do. So you figured you'd intimidate them instead of reporting them to a teacher or a prefect?" Tobias asked stiffly.

"Hey, nobody was in sight." Bletchley shrugged.

Tobias' humourless smile broadened. "Sounds like Warrington was."

"Yeah, well, we didn't know that," Bletchley insisted. "_They _tried to claim that _we _were in the wrong when he turned up, though! Said we were bullying them! As if they hadn't been setting off dungbombs and just trying to cause general mayhem! It's bloody impudence, that's what it is."

"Yeah, I know. Who'd have thought they'd have had such an extreme reaction to being threatened to be hexed?" Tobias mumbled. The sarcasm in his voice was missed by Bletchley and Montague due to their heads being full of the recent encounter, but this didn't stop Tanith from elbowing him in the side. A fight in the first few days would go down badly.

"Well, Warrington sorted them out. Gave them all detention for bothering us unnecessarily," Bletchley said, nodding firmly.

"Not for the dungbombs?" Even Tanith couldn't quite let this slide.

"Hey, we'd dealt with that."

"And no docking of house points for, I don't know… _threatening _a bunch of first-years?" Tobias wondered aloud.

Montague blinked stupidly. "They didn't threaten any first-years."

"I meant _you_, you imbecilic –"

Fortunately – of fortune above fortunes – this was the moment that Professor Lupin decided to make his appearance, at long last, pushing the thought-to-be-inevitable confrontation to one side. Montague and Bletchley would forget it, and it would take a new issue to incense Tobias to the level where he'd openly challenge them.

This was the way of things.

Lupin, however, didn't seem as asleep as Tanith seemed to claim he was, for although he still looked faintly dishevelled he still wore an expression of curiosity at the obvious tension amongst the Slytherin students. Bletchley and Montague were still shoulder to shoulder as they eyed Tobias, who stood tall but a little tentative, with Tanith by his side trying to diffuse the situation, and backup in the shape of Gabriel and Cal lurking just behind them all discreetly.

"We can argue over the Quidditch practices later," the Professor said quietly, causing everyone to jump slightly and jerk back into reality, bickering forgotten. He also won a look of intense gratitude from Tanith, a rather sudden shift in stance from the prickly girl. "Right now, I think it's lesson time."

"Yes… sir," Tobias said quietly, giving their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher a respectful nod. "We were just… talking." His expression was faintly grim, and his eyes didn't leave Bletchley's – of all the more difficult individuals in Slytherin, Bletchley was easily one of the smartest. A family of old blood, no particular links to any dark sides of magic, and very much on the right side in the war… simply possessed of most of the prejudices that came with it.

They filtered into the classroom as Lupin opened up the door, and Tobias was distinctly pleased to see that the display had shifted from the decorations that Lockhart had adorned the classroom with the previous year. Instead of posters advertising new books, pictures of the professor, and magazines framed on the walls, there was a more respectable and bare array of dusty volumes, and various wizarding artefacts Tobias only vaguely recognised. A tramp Lupin may have been according to Tanith, but he definitely wasn't a megalomaniac.

"Please, sit down," the professor said quietly, and for once, the Slytherins were actually inclined to do as he said. Not that the fourth years were particularly difficult compared to many other years; in fact, they were more balanced than most, lacking a figurehead of density such as Warrington in the year above, or Malfoy in the year below. Montague was too dense, Bletchley too smart, and nobody else had any such inclination.

Once they were settled, gathering quills and paper and Gabriel tilting his chair back the obligatory twenty degrees, balancing with irksome poise, Lupin stepped around to the front of the class, where a large wardrobe rested next to his desk.

"I'm aware that last year, under the tuition of Professor Lockhart, your focus in lessons was on curses and counter-curses. I'm also aware that, as a result of sub-standard teaching, there might be some… gaps in your knowledge," he started, his voice soft yet carrying across the room with surprising efficiency. "Whilst I have no doubt in Professor Lockhart's ability to teach you all the styling charms your hair will ever need, should you find yourselves needing to protect yourselves, a glamour spell might not be all that useful."

There was a faint chuckling across the room; still filled with a faint hostility, as Slytherin knew of the dislike the head of their house held for their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and weren't about to cosy up any time soon. If Snape had a problem with Lupin, then that was a good reason to treat him with suspicion.

"So we shall be focusing on that, mostly, this year. However, an opportunity has come my way that I am loath to not share with you all. I believe you covered dark creatures, for the most part, with Professor Quirrell, but that it was difficult to gather hands-on experience. That sort of practice, I have found, is the most valuable of all." He stepped back, and gestured to the wardrobe.

"What? Is it an evil wardrobe?" Gabriel asked, not as belligerently as Montague or Bletchley might have said it, but certainly with an edge.

Lupin merely smiled at this, and shook his head. "Not at all Mister Doyle; we are now more interested in what lies _inside _it. Parchment away, wands out; this shall be a practical lesson for now, which can also make a good introduction. From next lesson, I believe we shall be focusing on counter-curses and jinxes."

There was a rustling as everyone stowed their affairs and gathered their wands, but Tobias kept a close eye on the teacher. "So what's in the wardrobe, Professor?" he asked, as politely as he could manage without sounding obsequious.

"A Boggart," Lupin replied calmly, moving the tables to the side of the classroom with a single flick of his wand as the students stood up, leaving a large space for them to gather in. "It was lurking in here from when this was in the staff room. I had it moved down here for my classes. I'm assuming you have covered them before, and are aware of the spell required to deal with their kind?"

"_Riddikulus_," Tanith replied wearily. "Professor Quirrell _did _cover all of this with us, Professor Lupin."

"Indeed, but I'd imagine you have yet to put most of your knowledge to the test? Theory is always so much easier than the practical. I find that the exact frame of mind needed to cast most defensive or offensive spells can never be found in a text book, no matter how many you may read." Lupin gave her a cheerful smile that took some of the edge away from her irritated expression.

"It may have been two years ago, but how hard can it be?" Tanith pointed out.

Lupin smiled again. "In that case, Miss Cole, I'm very pleased to see that you have volunteered to go first. Very good. The first step in being able to defeat your fears is being actually willing to not run from them."

"It's just a Boggart. Can't be that bad," Tanith mumbled, stepping away from the group of Slytherins in the middle of the classroom. Still, Tobias noted how she was gripping her wand in a distinctively aggressive manner, very clearly prepared to whip it up at even the slightest hint of a threat from the wardrobe.

Lupin observed her approach with a fairly impassive expression, his hands clasped behind his back, head tilted to one side. "Ready, Miss Cole?" he asked politely enough, and when she replied with little more than a sharp jerk of her head, he reached out to swiftly pull the wardrobe door open.

All there was at first was the sensation of _movement_, of something emerging from the dark and apparently empty wardrobe, and Tanith's wand-hand rose immediately in preparation. But there was hardly a second before the indeterminate shape had shifted, to a tall, dark and imposing shape.

Tobias blinked as what most closely resembled vampires of books he had studied materialised in the centre of the classroom, large and foreboding and pale and most notably very sharply fanged. He could see Tanith's whole body stiffen at the appearance, but to her credit she waved her wand with conservative efficiency. "_Riddikulus_!"

Her voice had hardly faltered, and Tobias wasn't too surprised – this _was _Tanith, after all, and within seconds the vampire was on its knees, frantically hunting around for fallen fangs. Tanith let out a relieved, faintly nervous but very distinctively victorious chuckle and stepped back, giving Professor Lupin a deep and sarcastic yet not completely mocking bow.

Lupin gave her a positive grin, then nodded over at the crowd. Montague was at the front, and eager to step out, and even he managed to deal with the rampaging Chimera that appeared next with absolute ease. Thus it continued – Pucey with a skeleton he made collapse into a pile of bones, Melanie Larkin dealing with the utter darkness that consumed the room by illuminating the classroom with disco lighting, and so forth. Gabriel was confronted with an admittedly odd and slightly freakish giant dancing mannequin, whose dancing he found a good deal more amusing after its feet were set fire to. Tobias made a mental note to deal with that himself, but had little time to consider it before his turn came.

_Oh, no, it's going to be… yes, it is, isn't it…_

The flaming mannequin shifted, and suddenly, in the centre of the classroom, a rather large snake raised its head and looked Tobias in the eye. It wasn't quite of Basilisk proportions, but was still fairly formidable.

Great. In the middle of a Slytherin classroom, he'd declared to the world that his worst fear was a serpent.

Still, Tobias was in no mood to waste time for this, even as he felt a shudder run through him as the snake moved in that unnatural, slithering way of theirs. A slight distaste for the creatures had just been compounded at the realisation that the chaos of the year before had been caused by a Basilisk.

He whipped his wand out and pointed it directly at the snake. "_Riddikulus_." He kept his voice low and even, and concentrated on happier things.

At first, nothing happened, and Tobias felt a faint surge of panic within him, both at failure and the snake. But then, suddenly, the serpent unwound and even hopped lightly into the air, settling down gently as a giant, inflatable balloon of a snake. The balloon had hardly landed before it popped, and Tobias' wry laugh was just as victorious as Tanith's had been.

As he shifted back into the crowd of his classmates, he felt his aforementioned friend tugging on his sleeve lightly. "Your Boggart's a _snake_?" she asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow at him. "You do know you're a Slytherin, right? Is that meant to be ironic, or something?"

"It's meant to be that I don't like snakes." Tobias scowled somewhat, before nodding back at the wardrobe. "Heads up. It's Cal's turn."

Cal Brynmor didn't seem to be in the slightest bit composed as he stood before the reforming Boggart. His wand was held somewhat unsteadily, and though Tobias couldn't see his expression from behind, he could imagine it wasn't that confident.

And yet the Boggart's change was fairly unimpressive, from his perspective. Just a white mask on the floor.

It was only when Cal's wand was already moving that Tobias realised it was the mask of Death Eaters, and that Cal's Boggart probably tapped into much more adult fears than any of theirs had. Though he didn't want to know what a Muggle psychologist would make of his deep-rooted fear of the symbol of his Hogwarts House.

As Cal's incantation finished, Tobias let out a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding as the mask on the ground leapt up into the air and hovered there for a second, before suddenly transferring to a carnival mask, bright and colourful and moving – as wizard theatre masks usually did, pulling a silly expression.

And then, finally, it was Miles Bletchley's turn, the Slytherin Quidditch Keeper dismissing Boggart into the wardrobe, as a zombie now dressed in drag. Lupin closed the wardrobe door behind the creation without complaint, and gave them all a questioning look, challenging them to pass comment first.

Surprisingly, it was Cal who spoke up initially, sounding fairly calm. "See, Professor? This level of study's two years old for us. Can we get back to curses and counter-curses now?" To others, Cal would have sounded haughty and indifferent. To Tobias, the note of his voice that insisted they move on to other topics was quite clear.

Professor Lupin gave him a nod. "You did, indeed, all perform admirably. But how many of you feel more confident in your ability to place the theory of the classroom into practice? I'm sure Professor Quirrell had you waving your wands and saying the words quite happily, but…"

"In practice, it works better. Yes, professor." Tobias spoke up quickly to forestall any snide comments he could see lingering around on Gabriel's or Bletchley's lips. "We're glad you gave us the opportunity."

Behind him, Tanith was leaning over to the aforementioned Gabriel, in an inquisition similar to what he, Tobias, had undergone. "A dancing mannequin? What psychological issues are we touching on here, Doyle?" Her voice was questioning and wry rather than mocking – though, of everyone, Gabriel Doyle would take the mocking more easily than anyone.

"Hogsmeade festival six years ago. A dancing enchanted mannequin scared the hell out of me. Don't tell me that you didn't find _that _to be freaky, just now?" Gabriel whispered back.

"Well, not exactly. But then again, I'm not eight years old. Point conceded," Tanith chuckled.

"Now, because of your sketchy teaching last year," Lupin was saying as Tobias tuned back in to the professor's teaching – that which they were actually supposed to be paying attention to right then, rather than the little ramblings and questionings of Gabriel and Tanith, "I'd like to see how far along you are today, so that I know what to cover and what I don't have to."

"Professor Lockhart didn't leave notes?" Bletchley asked, for the first time sounding truly indignant about the standard of teaching.

"Professor Lockhart forgot to pack. Do you know how many posters I've had to remove from the office?" Lupin replied with a sly smile. "No, there are no notes. So I'm going to have to evaluate you all myself." He pulled his wand out and, with a whip of it, the wardrobe shifted to the back of the room, sliding into place and becoming instantly indistinctive. "So… wands out again?"


	6. December 31st, 1995 – Sixth Year

**December 31st, 1995**** – Sixth Year**

"What time is it?" a voice hissed across the Slytherin Common Room, when all was dark and apparently empty. Silence had hung in the air before the whisper had broken it, taut and heavy in this dungeon chamber under the lake that was the home of Hogwarts' most… controversial house.

"About nine o' clock, Cal. If you want to go, you'd probably best head off now. Even though I've made my opinion _perfectly _clear," another voice replied, and the speaker propped himself up on his elbow where he was sitting on a sofa at a corner near one of the larger windows.

Cal, who had been perched on a small armchair now bathed in moonlight from the enchanted view the windows gave, nodded. "Before everyone else gets back, I think."

Tobias snorted. "They won't be back for at least an hour. There's hardly anyone left in the school; they all had the sense to go home for Christmas and New Year's, not like us poor fools, stuck for weeks to come on our own, alone in this giant, roomy, draughty common room…"

"Hardly weeks. Days left, maybe. At worst." Tanith shrugged. "We've done alright. Did you honestly want Montague underfoot at Christmas? That would really encourage festive cheer, I'm bloody sure. We're better off on our own."

Tobias looked over at his two friends. I guess we're fortunate our occupied Christmases landed on the same year?" He smiled sheepishly. "It _is _better to spend the festive season with you, for once. After all, we're our own family…"

"If you're suggesting something, Toby…" Cal winced as a sofa cushion hurtled out of the darkness to hit him in the face, and he let out a brief chuckle. "Touchy about this, aren't you? Getting a little too fond of friends for your own good?"

An uncomfortable silence met these words, and Cal shifted slightly. It was just as well the darkness hid expressions, in addition to allowing the enchanted moonlight to play delicately across the rugs on the floor. It meant he could observe the picturesque scene and pretend he hadn't said the wrong word in front of just the wrong people.

"It was just you two who had things on," Tanith said quietly at last. "Altair isn't at home. Evadne's god-knows-where. I prefer to spend the holiday season with my friends than my parents, if at all possible." Tanith shrugged. "They don't care, I'm sure."

Another silence met her words, this time filled with a discomfort that was quite different. Cal sighed deeply. "Shall we go, then? Before we grow any grey hairs?" he asked slowly, laboriously.

Tanith sat up. "Yeah," she said heavily. "Let's."

Tobias squirmed as the other two stood. "This isn't a good idea. I mean, really not. What if we get caught? Sneaking out of grounds late at night? We'll be expelled! Umbridge has already taken over most of the disciplinary actions around school! We'll be accused of… of… heading out to…" His voice trailed off wearily, and it was clear he could not _quite _find an outrageous charge to be levelled at them which would prove his point.

"So we won't get caught," Cal said promptly as he and Tanith grabbed Tobias by the elbows and practically hauled him upright. "Come on, Perfect Prefect. You can keep an eye on us, make sure we don't do anything _too _outrageous. You love to lecture us, we know… now we're allowing you!"

"Tanith's a prefect too!" Tobias protested weakly, allowing himself to be dragged towards the door. "You're not mocking her!"

"I'm not that dumb," Cal said simply.

"And I'm not a perfect prefect, Mister-Future-Head-Boy. I'm perfect at other things, mind, but not prefecting," Tanith said easily, smirking as they stepped down the stairs and out of the common room, into the dark corridors. "Which way did Van Roden say the doorway was, again?"

"This way," Tobias said unwillingly, and they turned left, further into the darkness. "And I'm not going to be Head Boy. Dumbledore won't make a Slytherin Head Boy for another ten years! He's not that stupid, not with all that's been happening lately…"

"…_and _his Gryffindor bias must be taken into account. Oh, Riley will make Head Girl, no doubt about it. Chang's bloody unhinged, I'm… well, me, and Grahams is too lazy. But neither Everard or Sharpe will make Head Boy," Tanith told him with quiet certainty.

"No. It'll be the new Hufflepuff Golden Boy, O'Neal. And I'm _fine _with that," Tobias told them flatly. "Besides, I'll definitely not make Head Boy if we get expelled here for sneaking out. Umbridge will have our bloody heads, and Professor Snape won't be able to stop her, even if he'd want to!"

"Stop panicking," Tanith said calmly. "You're turning into a gibbering wreck."

"Umbridge will be in the Main Hall with everyone else," Cal continued irritably. "Tanith's right. Stop being such a pansy and help us find this hidden doorway. Come on, the Hogsmeade New Year's Festival starts at nine-thirty, and though we'd do well to sneak in with the crowds, arriving _too _late will only draw attention to us." He was tapping walls with his wand by now as they walked slowly through the gloom of the corridors.

"I'm not being a 'pansy'," Tobias retorted scathingly. "I'd just rather not get kicked out of here. I'm rather fond of this school, and I'd like my career plans to _not _be ruined before they begin, thank you very bloody much." He shook his head. "Umbridge could be anywhere. She's scary and paranoid and _expects _us to pull stunts like this. She might even be lurking around the next corner…!"

His ramble came to a halt when, from around the aforementioned corner, a dark shape emerged. Tobias had clearly been successful in whipping Tanith and Cal up into a mild panic over Umbridge despite their words, for they all leapt into the air as one, jumping practically out of their skins.

Of course, it took them only a second to realise that the shape was too large to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; too tall, and not podgy enough. For one panicked moment Tobias feared it might be Snape, and then sanity kicked in enough for him to recognise the new arrival.

"Gabriel, you git!" Cal was already stammering. "You scared the living daylights out of us! Tobias here had us practically convinced you were Umbridge, out on an expelling spree!"

Gabriel gave Tobias a wry look, raising an eyebrow at him. "Thank you, Tobias. It's nice to know that I am so similar in appearance to an overgrown toad. I'll be sure to put that on any job applications I ever write."

Tobias shifted his feet slightly with embarrassment. "There is a small chance I might have panicked and we may have all overreacted."

"A small chance?" Tanith mumbled, then focused on Gabriel. "Doyle, you said you'd meet us down there. Why are you here?"

"My alternative exit didn't quite work. Filch is on watch. Everyone else is up in the Great Hall, though, so this route should work. I found it, by the way. My brother told me about it when I first came here – how do you think I've been escaping for walks all these years?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Fair enough," Tobias said, nodding. "Let's just go. I'll feel better once we're out of here. They won't look for us once we're in Hogsmeade – it's just _getting _there which is going to give me ulcers." He shifted his feet slightly. "I'd still rather not get expelled."

"You know, we all would, so stop repeating it," Tanith rebuked him, and turned to Gabriel. "Now, Doyle, stop wittering on and take us down to the exit. Or Grey is right and we _will _get caught. Forget expelling, Dad would _kill _me if we were found wandering around out of grounds. You know how paranoid he gets."

Tobias glanced at her as Gabriel nodded and began to lead them down a smaller, side-corridor. "I thought you kept saying your father didn't generally give a damn what you did as long as you didn't bother him?"

"That's the point. It would bother him." Tanith eyed Tobias. "And, well, he thinks that we might get attacked by Death Eaters. He actually thinks the rumours of You-Know-Who being back are true. Delusional old fool. He hasn't quite worked out that Potter's a mad nutter who's seen probably a few too many Bludgers to the head."

"Some people are just too willing to encourage panic. They seem to get some sort of malicious kick out of it. Can't they just acknowledge that he's dead and that we don't need a bogeyman in our lives anymore?" Cal asked, shaking his head.

"Here." Gabriel interrupted them by coming to a halt. "This is it."

The statue he had found them, of some aged wizard even Tobias was at a loss to identify, did indeed slide open and aside when the wand was tweaked. Moving suspiciously silently and easily, the statue – or door? – turned out to have been hiding a long, dark passageway with no obvious end or light in sight.

"Erm… Gabe? Are you sure that this is it?" Cal asked nervously, gripping his wand as he stared into the endless gloom that was their supposed path to freedom, Hogsmeade and the New Year's Festival.

"Quite sure," Gabriel replied, though he, too, was gripping his wand and giving the darkness his own dubious expression. "Menelaus wouldn't have lied to me, I'm sure. Not about something like this. He _had _to be using some secret passageway at some point, anyway. It doesn't make sense otherwise."

"Maybe your brother was pulling your leg and trying to lure you into some werewolf's den?" Tobias asked innocently as he took a tentative step forwards into the gloom of the passageway.

"Or maybe the road to Hogsmeade isn't easy and you should all stop being scaredy-cats… and we should get a move on. Unless you want to wait for Filch – or worse, Umbridge – to saunter along casually and catch us?" Tanith snapped, pushing past Tobias and stepping into the darkness.

The others exchanged dubious glances before following her into the passageway. Gabriel tapped his wand and mumbled "_Lumos_!" under his breath before sliding the statue shut behind them, leaving them with only forwards as a potential direction.

Tobias swore as he cast the light spell as well. "Gabe, that door had better open on our way back, or I will _kill _you," he mumbled warningly, looking distinctly disgruntled but falling into step behind Tanith regardless.

"Don't you trust me, Grey?" Gabriel asked innocently. There was a pause. "Actually, don't answer, you miserable cretins."

The passageway was less foreboding by wand-light. The Slytherins didn't exactly have much experience with secret passageways at varying points around the school which they knew existed, and so this one was probably a suitable introduction for it. No jagged rocks or uneven walkway underfoot threatened; the walls were smooth, the floor tiled. It was a surprisingly civilised passageway, and with Tanith in the front to scare/mutilate/mock any would-be assailants or disciplining teachers, they began to feel even quite good about the trip.

"Talking about werewolves and Umbridge, Tobias," Cal started, after a minute or two of silence. "I bet you _now _agree with me in wishing Professor Lupin had come back to teach Defence, instead of that Ministry-whipped old hag boring us out of our minds."

Tobias sighed. It was a discussion that they had had often before, neither of them changing their stance. "I'd rather be bored to death than mauled to death, Cal, as I said last time."

Cal mimicked the sigh. "You're still going to be closed-minded about this, then, you smart-arsed git?" Though the words were said affectionately, there was still a hint of reproach in there.

"I am not being closed-minded," Tobias replied evenly. "I liked Professor Lupin, and had only the highest respect for him. I do not in any way think less of the man for his unfortunate status as a werewolf. He was a good teacher."

"A good teacher you respect, but don't want to see teaching?" Cal challenged provocatively.

"I won't drag out the pitchforks for Professor Lupin, nor shall I call him a monster. But I've read a lot about werewolves. Come a full moon, that cheerful, polite professor turns into what can only be described as a monster. No recognition of anyone. No control. Just a raging desire for death." Tobias grimaced. "And then I_ can _call him a monster, because he's not then Remus Lupin anymore. He's something so dangerous it shouldn't be around the school."

"Dumbledore took loads of precautions; the old man's not stupid…" Cal argued weakly.

"Dumbledore's too trusting," Tanith interrupted from the front. "And I'm sorry, Cal, but I agree with Tobias on this one. It only needs to happen once, and then you have a bunch of dead students on your hands. Truth be told, they probably did Lupin a favour by hounding him out, just so he wouldn't do something to get himself locked up."

"He did get out once, and nobody was hurt," Cal pointed out.

"Yeah, but nobody knows what happened that night. One of Dumbledore's Gryffindor-loving great cover-ups," Gabriel replied wearily. He shrugged when Cal turned on him, wearing an expression of 'Et tu, Brute?'. "I don't care much, truth be told. The man could teach, was afflicted by something beyond his control, and those responsible for him failed. They should be punished, not the Professor."

"Trust Doyle to turn this into another Dumbledore criticism," Tanith groaned to Tobias, as Cal looked less thrilled with Gabriel's support than he might have.

"You're saying to keep a werewolf away from the school because he _might _be dangerous, right, Toby?" Cal challenged Tobias, and hardly waited for a nod from his friend before continuing. "Then where _could _a werewolf go? Surely, if he's allowed out in wizarding society, he _might _be a danger there?"

"Cal, you're ranting," Tanith mumbled, but went ignored.

"A school's quite different. In the wide world, the Ministry keep an eye out – but Hogwarts is a condensed source of food to any werewolf, food that cannot protect itself," Tobias said calmly. "I know it's not a werewolf's fault, but what's more important? Their comfort, or innocent lives?"

"I hate to interrupt the fun that comes from our many, many… many debates about morality and other such irksome aspects of humanity," Gabriel said slowly, breaking into their conversation with a haughty tone that contrasted with the fact that, seconds earlier, he'd been contributing to the debate. "But if you'll look ahead, Tanith, I think we're here."

And, indeed, there was an archway pinpointing the end of the tunnel that they, despite their wand-illumination and because of their arguments, had not noticed until Gabriel had pointed it out. Just a simple doorway, hidden from the other side by thick bushes, but it was well and truly a way out.

As Tobias ducked under some leaves and gingerly touched a scratch on his cheek from a whipping branch that Tanith had carelessly pushed aside, he glanced at the others. They were all emerging from the tunnel by now, finding themselves – once they clambered from the undergrowth that hid the passageway's entrance – by some trees at the bottom of a long slope. There was a large pile of rock that hid the archway of the hidden tunnel, but other than that, no signs of civilisation.

"Where are we?" Tobias asked at last, reluctantly. He tugged his robes about him. Cal had insisted that they not wear Hogwarts robes so as to not be grabbed immediately, but Tanith had pointed out how foolish it was to wear Muggle clothing when trying to be inconspicuous. In Hogsmeade, they could easily pass as young wizards there for the festival, and if nobody looked too closely, the four of them looked old enough to not be instantly pinpointed as Hogwarts students. Tobias and Cal were of age, and Gabriel's birthday within the next month. They would doubtless get by.

If they could _find _the village, that was.

"I think we just need to get to the top of the hill. Van Roden said we had to walk a little way," Cal said, grimacing a little before he grabbed Tobias by the sleeve and tugged him along up the slope hurriedly. Tanith and Gabriel exchanged glances before falling into pace beside them slowly.

Tobias had held nothing but the greatest respect for Jacob Van Roden, former Slytherin prefect who had left the year before, but not before becoming something of a mentor to him over his time at Hogwarts. However, he wasn't so sure that Van Roden had been so used to sneaking out of the school that he could be considered a veritable expert on the hidden passageways.

Then again, nobody would have thought that Tobias Grey, prefect and general rule-obsessive, would think of sneaking out of the school. It was merely the tedium of Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays that came from Umbridge's presence, and the general insubordination the High Inquisitor evoked, that had prompted their night-time excursion. Looks could be deceiving.

Indeed, as the four of them emerged rapidly over the crest of the hill, the shape of Hogsmeade village could be seen below them. It was a slope, really, not much of a hill, and when Tobias glanced over to his left, he could see footpath there that, if they had walked around the hill civilly, they would have found. As it was, they merely sauntered down, hearing music and seeing the exotic lights of Hogsmeade even from this distance.

As the only truly fully wizarding settlement in Britain, Hogsmeade was often the site of many of the more elaborate magic occasions. The summer fete was a sight worth being seen by all, though none of them had ever attended save Gabriel, who had been only about four at the time and claimed to be able to remember nothing but an enchanted, dancing mannequin that had scared the living daylights out of him – the Boggart lessons in their fourth year had confirmed this panic.

But the New Year's festivals was ten times more famous. It was not odd that individuals from around the country had come down here, where they were allowed to celebrate in a full, wizarding style and not be in the slightest bit worried about alerting the Muggles to their presence.

This made the festival a veritable orgy of sights and sounds, as the foursome discovered when they finally reached the village. It was only half nine, and though this was the time the festival was _technically _supposed to start, the fact that there was already street dancing and free-flowing amounts of various interesting liquors suggested that the celebrations had been going on for a while already.

There was never anything specifically _organised _about the festival, which was one of its beauties. People just turned up from all over the country with their stands, or their shows, or any other displays of note, and it all turned into a mad bout of celebrations. They had no doubt that the village green, which was currently empty, and the hill they had just come from, would be more than full by the end of the night.

Tobias looked on as a man juggled ten sparkling wands, which cast various illusions into the air when they were tossed back up. Mythological beasts sprang out of each wand-tip in a myriad of colours, and each illusion was more splendorous than the last. Tobias had no doubt that he could copy all of them individually, but the idea of casting ten illusions at once from wands which he couldn't be as used to as his own, whilst _juggling _them all… well, it baffled him.

Over to the left of the main street stood a woman doing an impressive spot of transfiguration that shifted the cutlery laid down a long, long table into various animals, which performed small dances before turning back into a spoon, or a knife, or a fork. Just further down the street from her, on a large stand, a group of young people were performing some traditional wizardly music, with enchanted amplification that meant it reached the entire village without deafening those close up to it. And in the street before them, everybody danced.

The four students turned to each other, grinning broadly. The festival was most definitely _on_.

"I think we need to start at the Three Broomsticks," Cal declared jubilantly, rubbing his hands together and stepping forwards towards the large crowd of wizards. "After all, we need to get a good chance to take in the sights. It'll be murder getting a table, but I think we're early enough."

Nobody argued with him, considering that the Three Broomsticks was down at the other end of the street, and getting there meant passing all of the fabulous sights and sounds. Being all from wizarding families, and having been exposed to magic their whole lives – the only one of them who knew anything else to any great extent was Cal, with Will Rayner's Muggle-friendly upbringing – but the festival was as grand and exotic to them as any Muggle fair would have been to any Muggle child.

Tables were being cast up as quickly as people arrived outside the Three Broomsticks, and it was clear that the inside of the pub was quite full. It _was _rather cold in Hogsmeade at this time of year, but some heating charm had to have been cast, otherwise the village would have been overrun without the streets to spill out into.

The four of them managed to grab a new, small table as it popped into existence, courtesy of one of the serving girls, who was waving a wand around liberally to cater for new customers. Gabriel didn't sit down, merely took money from them quickly before heading into the pub with a promise of Butterbeer. Knowing it would be impossible to convince them to not leave Hogwarts, Tobias had settled with a promise not to drink. Now he was here, in the middle of this evocative and intoxicating evening, he was rather regretting the agreement. But no – they needed to keep their heads about them if they were to avoid getting caught. And the fact remained that they could have plenty of fun without alcohol.

"So, you feeling more relaxed about all of this now, Grey?" Tanith asked him chirpily, sitting down on one of the chairs and shrugging off the heavier overcoat of her robes in the warm bubble of the heating charm engulfing the village. "Now we're away from all of the risks."

"Well, actually, I don't think we're away from the risks. It only takes one teacher down here to enjoy the fun and we could be in a lot of trouble. Or the way back could be rather treacherous. I'm not going to assume that we're home free yet," Tobias said, shaking his head and resisting the urge to smirk as the other two rolled their eyes at him.

"Right little ray of sunshine, isn't he, Tanith?" Cal asked her, sighing dramatically.

Tobias chuckled, punching his friend on the upper arm playfully. "Nah, I'm just messing with you. Yeah, it's true that we're not necessarily alright, but I'm not going to let that bother me. We're here, and we're going to have a great evening."

"If it weren't for Umbridge and Hogwarts being all but dead, I wouldn't even _think _about coming down here; you know that," Tanith said, and the authority-respecting side of her that Tobias knew existed was clearly kicking in. "But I think I might have to kill myself if I have to stay in that joyless place any more."

"It's not nice, what's happening, is it," Cal mumbled. "Less Dumbledore influence isn't a good thing, whatever Gabriel might say. There's a leash being put on everyone. No wonder hardly anybody's stayed here for the Christmas holidays."

"Seems to be the sixth year curse to hang around. There's at least one pour soul from every house in our year without the chance of going home." Tobias glanced at Tanith. "Then again, some of us did decide that Hogwarts would be better than home. If I had to spend another Christmas with my grandfather _grooming _me, I'd end up going absolutely crazy at the old codger." He scowled. "I don't know why Mum had to go to another damned reunion anyway. They've been mocking her ever since she married my Dad. And that's a _lot _of mocking."

"Yes, and I've already made my opinion on the enjoyment levels of Christmas with my parents quite clear," Tanith said coolly.

"You used to get on well with your parents. What happened?" Cal asked, shifting in his seat.

Tanith shrugged. "Things with Dad were fine. I was his little girl, after all." Her lip curled, and Tobias wasn't sure if it was with disgust or a wry nostalgia. "After all, I took after him heavily. My sister got the Ravenclaw traits of the family. But in recent years…" She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't quite know what it was. A bit of it was that I began to challenge all of his views. Which I can blame you two for."

Her voice was dry, but Tobias knew there were more thanks and more affection in the words than any bitterness. "You mean, anti-Muggle-born views, and other such older family tripe?" he asked cheerfully.

"Yeah. He wasn't happy about his darling daughter becoming quite so… un-Cole. I think it's only Altair who keeps him in check; I don't know if my mother does anything at all. I just… well, why do you think I've found somewhere else to be many summers?" Tanith asked, looking up at them. In that moment, Tobias found her to seem much more vulnerable than ever before in their entire acquaintance. He wanted to reach out to her, pat a shoulder or take her hand, but past transgressions forbade him.

"Do you guys want to come back to my house over the summer?" Cal interrupted. "If you're so desperate to not go home, Tanith. Will won't mind, I'm sure. We all stayed out of his way last year. We won't be bothering him." He smiled wryly. "We can get down the pub for the first time, too."

"Sounds good." Tobias smiled thinly. "I think my Mum's planning to leave the country, too. She's had less and less to do here in Britain. Gringotts are probably going to get her a decent transfer to somewhere on the continent. She hasn't said anything specific, but I've caught bits and pieces in her letters. So it might be nice to spend the summer somewhere other than at home, alone."

"What's this? Another fun summer of hiking?" Gabriel interrupted, coming to sit down at the fourth seat around the table. He passed the Butterbeers he'd grabbed around, taking a large gulp of his quickly. "It's madly packed in there. Absolutely nutty. I've never seen it so busy before."

"That's because this is the festival, Gabe. It tends to get quite active." Cal shifted to face him. "Yeah; I was just telling Cal and Tanith about how Will wouldn't probably mind if you all came back to my place over the summer for a fortnight or so. You up for it? Just like old times."

"I thought old times annoyed you?" Tanith asked wryly, eyes narrowing.

Cal ignored her as Gabriel spoke, nodding. "Sounds good," he said, sipping his drink again. "Will should be back from his mad travelling by then?"

Cal shrugged. "I don't know. If not, free house. If so… well, open invitation. I don't even know where he is, but I keep getting letters from random birds just saying he's alright. I think he doesn't want me to panic, but I have far too much faith in him to not get into any trouble that it's not necessary." He smiled smugly, and took up his Butterbeer.

Tobias always felt a pang of jealousy at the simple, loving relationship between Cal and his foster-father. Will Rayner had been a better guardian to Cal than it seemed either Tanith or Gabriel's real fathers – though the latter's family life was an odd mystery few of them touched upon – had ever been, and the fact that Tobias had never known his own father just made it faintly painful. Will Rayner may have been an Unspeakable, and may have been forced to travel widely on a regular basis – more and more now that Cal was of an age to take care of himself – but he never forgot his foster-son.

"We should have fun. And I'm not going hiking again, Gabe," Tobias said to Gabriel instead, tearing his eyes away from Cal slowly.

"Sure you are. It's fun. It gets you fit, and active, and full of fresh air. Books will kill you some day, Toby," Gabriel said to him, chuckling a little.

"The day Gabriel Doyle becomes a health freak, Hell freezes over," Tanith declared, eyeing Gabriel dubiously as she clutched her own Butterbeer.

Cal looked over their shoulders into the crowd, and tugged on Tanith's sleeve vaguely. "Actually, Tan, I think one of the _other _criteria for Hell freezing over has just been filled!" he declared, with a touch of glee on his face. They all twisted in their chairs to see a familiar group heading their way, though they only noticed them when Cal called out with a loud chuckle.

"What's this? Jennifer Riley is breaking the _rules_? Surely that's a rather un-Gryffindor thing to do!" he crowed victoriously at the Hogwarts students that had clearly had the same idea as them on how to spend a New Year others would have them pass at school.

"I could say the same about Tobias Grey!" Nick Wilson called out in retaliation as the five students from three other houses drew to a halt in front of the four Slytherins.

There was a long, taut silence as the entirety of the sixth year still at Hogwarts stared at each other. The situation could very easily have gone quite nastily, considering the long and uneasy history between the individuals, and the current enmity between Slytherin and the other houses.

But the fact that they were Tanith Cole, Caldwyn Brynmor, Tobias Grey and Gabriel Doyle helped considerably, for they were not Adrian Pucey, with his constant mocking, or Miles Bletchley, with his constant bullying, or Edmund Montague, with his constant punching. They were… the lesser Slytherins. And thus the lesser evil.

Tanith, amazingly, made the first move as she stood up. "Alright. We're going to need a bigger table," she declared, pulling her wand out of her sleeve and conjuring up a long, broad dining table in a feat of magic that Flitwick would have been more than slightly proud of.

Another silence greeted this, until Nick Wilson chuckled and moved over to pull up a chair. "Sure thing, Cole. Nice little bit of conjuring there; I remember you having trouble in Charms with that sort of heavy-duty work a few weeks ago."

"Smart-arse here made sure I practiced," Tanith said, nodding in Tobias' direction. He made a vague noise of protest, but nothing more.

"It's pretty packed in there," Gabriel told George Summerby, Hufflepuff Seeker, as he eyed the inside of the Three Broomsticks evaluatingly. "You might want to think twice before you go and fetch drinks."

Summerby paused, one hand resting on a chair. "I'll go," he said to the other four. "Butterbeers all around?"

Wilson and Riley nodded, as did Annie MacKenzie – another Gryffindor – and Aurora Jameson of Ravenclaw. Summerby hurried off into the crowd, and MacKenzie leaned across the table at the four Slytherins. "So, how long did you guys have _this _planned?" she asked, as if she could pre-empt their claim to a presence at the Hogsmeade Festival.

The four Slytherins exchanged glances, then Cal grunted. "I'm not sure. Maybe since Christmas? As that was such a loveless affair, we thought we'd make a break for it, see if we could inject some fun into our lives."

"Well, you were talking about the festival last month, Cal," Tanith corrected, sipping her Butterbeer. "You said we should go some day."

"Yeah, but I think 'some day' then meant in about two years, when we're out of Hogwarts, or if we go home for the holidays and then all meet up here independently, rather than being under Dumbledore's supervision," Gabriel pointed out.

Tobias sighed, looking at Annie MacKenzie. "In short, it was a last minute thing. I _did _try to discourage them, but it seemed it would not be so. They seem to be intent on getting the lot of us expelled before the school year's out."

"Not that it would be too much of a loss, with Umbridge all but running the place," Annie pointed out, and Tobias found himself nodded slightly.

"True. But I do have a job in mind that rather demands NEWTs," he answered slowly.

Annie looked vaguely interested. "Oh yes? What's that?"

The other three Slytherins groaned theatrically, and Cal gave his friend a little shove, glancing at Annie. "Oh, don't encourage him, Mac," he declared dramatically. "He'll only talk your ears off for the rest of the night." He grinned as Annie's lips twitched. "After all, how interesting can someone be if they want to become an Ambassador of Magic, working in some Embassy in some God-forsaken distant country somewhere on behalf of our Ministry?"

Annie gave Tobias an appraising look. "I think that sounds potentially interesting," she said slowly, smiling a little.

"So do I," he said, grinning at the support.

Tanith leaned forwards, butting in slightly to the conversation. "Surely it's not the night to talk about career prospects?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "After all, we're here to forget school and all the problems it brings, not revel in the future that it may or may not give us."

"Says Miss 'I-want-to-be-an-Auror', who needs a bagful of NEWTs to even get looked at in her chosen career," Tobias rebuked, shifting to face her.

"You want to be an Auror?" George Summerby asked as he returned, laden with Butterbeer, and took the empty seat next to Tanith. "That sounds fascinating. Only the best of the best actually make it, don't they?"

Tobias turned to look at Summerby a little challengingly. "Then you're just encouraging Tanith. She _is _the best," he said simply.

"Thank you, Grey," Tanith said, sipping her Butterbeer. "You might be boring, but you can sometimes compliment me quite suitably. You do serve a purpose."

"I thought my purpose was nothing more than to comply with your every whim and desire?" Tobias said, shifting to face her and unable to keep the slight edge out of his voice that threatened.

Wilson coughed, having clearly noticed the sparks about to fly. "You know, it's busy out in the street. Mad dancing, but not quite mad enough. You think we should show them how it's done at Hogwarts?"

"What, stepping on toes and with bad dress robes, like last year?" Annie asked, laughing wryly. "I'm not sure that's a good demonstration, Nick."

"And it's not best to wear a sign saying 'Hogwarts Truants Here'," Tobias pointed out, and Annie laughed again.

"We'll be fine," Wilson said, winking at them before he practically dragged a protesting Riley from her seat and out into the street of mad dancers.

There was a long pause as Tobias' first thought was to turn to Tanith to ask her to join him. But no – he remembered the last time they had danced only too well, and leaned across the table slightly to face Annie. "Feel like joining them? I'm not a bad dancer, and I absolutely avoid stepping on toes," he said, smirking a little.

He ignored Tanith's mutter of "well, you _really _know how to get the girls, Grey," as Annie grinned at him and hopped to her feet.

"Sounds good. Nick can't dance worth a damn, so someone does _actually _have to show them how to do it right," the Gryffindor said cheerily, and Tobias stepped up, grabbing her lightly by the wrist and stepping backwards to join the crowd.

Just over her shoulder, he was aware of George Summerby turning to Tanith slightly, but before he could say a word Cal had stood and grabbed her out into the street as well. Tobias didn't like the sense of relief that hit him at that, and nor did he like the fact that Cal gave him a discreet, but reassuring wink as they stepped past.

He wasn't supposed to be feeling like this, damn it.

So, instead, Tobias focused on Annie MacKenzie as the next song started up, and decided that with a pretty girl agreeing to dance with him, he didn't need to think about any unrequited feelings he might or might not have had for Tanith. "So, can _you _dance, or should I take it easy?"

"Think that just because I'm Muggle-Born I can't dance up a storm? I once took ballet lessons, I'll have you know," Annie told him, smirking again.

Tobias grinned. "Ballet? That's the weak Muggle thing where they flit around to prissy music wearing tight-fitting clothing? Sounds like fun, but it's not quite my kind of dancing," he told her, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright." Annie's smirk remained intact. "You dance however you wish, and I'll show you just how prissy it might make me."

So he did. His mother had insisted on dancing lessons from a young age, and although he wasn't exactly the individual with the most natural sense for music, when it came to a social dance he certainly wasn't shabby. He hit the beat, he hit the floor, and he knew how to move to the rhythm in an admittedly formal way which could still be jazzed up to compensate for types of music.

Fortunately, traditional wizarding music, which tended towards fast-paced, Celtic-sounding melodies, was exactly his strong point, and, as Annie had promised, she too could 'dance up a storm'.

"So, how'd you guys get down here?" Annie asked as they whirled quickly, she not missing a single beat despite the conversation just started. "It's pretty hard to find a few hidden passageways that lead down this far."

"We got one by the Slytherin common room. Just past the portrait of the Shiny Man?" Tobias explained eloquently – though the Shiny Man was, indeed, how the too-generously-painted individual in the picture was called. "I can't tell you all the secrets of course, or you'd use it yourself, and we need a certain amount of mystery."

"Ah, yes. Slytherin ambiguity. You think it lends you a specific amount more appeal than other houses, just because nobody seems to know what happens behind the doors to your common room," Annie said dryly.

"Well, people _don't _often know what happens in our common room other than Slytherins. The only reason I know about the time on Christmas Day when Harding and Wilson got you with dungbombs was the smell and subsequent explanation from Cal," Tobias pointed out smoothly. Then he wondered as to how wise it might be to remind a girl he was dancing with that he remembered a time she'd stunk of crap.

"Yes, but you're not exactly sociable with the rest of the school, on the whole," Annie said, ignoring his comment.

"We're being sociable tonight?" Tobias grinned, stepping a little bit closer in accordance with the music – though not exactly as the dance moves described. Annie had a lack of reaction that spoke just as much, though she did grin a little and continue to dance quite happily.

"I think you are. I meant in general," Annie said, leaning into the slight twirl of the dance move, his arm ending up a little more around her back than it had been before. That _was _what the dance demanded, however. "You know – Slytherin house are the outsiders."

"Not my fault. The fault of others in my house, certainly, but not my fault," Tobias said darkly, then fell silent.

Annie looked at him sympathetically. "It can't be easy to have so many idiots in your house," she said softly. "I mean, I know how the rest of the school paints you all. Everyone seems to do it, and Nick's only being polite to you because Jennifer told him to play nice – she suspected you'd be down here. But I know you're not like the rest."

"Well, the four of us are generally alright, as there are only five others in our year, and though Montague's a right brute, we generally get by, even if Bletchley can be a complete and utter wanker from time to time…" Tobias' voice trailed off as Annie shook her head.

"I meant the specific you, this time," she said quietly, nodding at him. "Doyle can be a bastard. I know he's your friend, and I'm sorry, but he can."

Tobias grimaced. "I know. He's got better, but… I know."

"And Cal's alright – friends with everyone, but he's still sometimes… just as boisterous as the rest of your house. And I don't just mean outgoing boisterous, I mean in that faintly abrasive way? He's a nice guy, don't get me wrong," Annie shook her head slightly as the song came to a halt finally, and stepped back.

"I know. Cal's a good friend. He's… he's like a brother to me. But that doesn't blind me to his faults." Tobias shifted as a much slower, softer song began to play. "I know I have my own faults, though; my ego's not that big."

"A healthy ego can sometimes be a good thing," Annie told him, shrugging.

_Maybe you should exercise your ego_, Tobias thought, looking at her and listening to the music. "Shall we keep on dancing?" he asked, quite aware of the nature of this slower song they were playing in the streets of Hogsmeade.

Annie considered this slightly, then smirked a little. "Sounds good," she said, stepping close again. Tobias was briefly aware of the others of their table heading back and leaving the dancing. He didn't think about that right then, though.

He didn't know whether to grin or panic when Annie slowly rested her hands on his shoulder, and he gripped her by the waist gently. He settled on a faintly nervous smile. "What about Tanith?" he asked, then quickly stumbled over the words as he realised how it could sound. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I mean, what makes her not-so-different from the rest?"

Annie grinned at him, and he felt his nerves dissipating a little. "You tell me," she said softly. "You say you can see their flaws."

Tobias was keenly aware that this might be a test. He didn't know how much Annie MacKenzie knew to be testing him on, nor was he entirely sure how to pass it. He decided to do something very foolish and settle on the truth.

Amazingly, it worked.

"She's better than she was, like Gabriel, but she can often be dismissive of non-pureblood wizards. I've even suffered from that myself, though I don't think she realises she's doing it. And she has a very much 'us versus them' mentality which doesn't help the current house problems," Tobias said quietly, his brow furrowed as he considered her flaws. They didn't bother him – they were a part of who Tanith was – but he could see them. This was new.

Annie nodded slightly. "You went to the Yule Ball with her," she said slowly, as they twirled a little. "Last year." It wasn't a question.

"It didn't end particularly well," Tobias said. "I mean, I thought she might have been more than a friend, but she made it quite clear that wasn't happening. One good thing about Tanith being Tanith is that she doesn't tend to leave uncertainties in her wake." He couldn't help but grimace at this.

Annie looked sympathetically at him, but also, just below the surface, was an evaluating air he could just make out. "It would have to be rather hard, to have those sorts of feelings for your best friend when she wasn't interested," she said slowly.

Tobias met the gaze levelly, now becoming increasingly aware of what was being asked. He didn't know whether or not to run. The irritation he'd felt at Summerby being about to ask Tanith to dance earlier was now promptly forgotten.

And why _shouldn't _he forget it?

"I've dealt with it. Teenage infatuation," he said calmly, grinning. "Being a man in the wizarding world now, I think I'm entitled to be able to dismiss my vague attractions of the past and… move on."

"To more serious attractions?" Annie asked, with a smirk that softened his grin.

"Perhaps," he said, and he didn't know why he was saying it, or why he was saying it to her, but he did know why she was smiling at him like that, and then he was smiling too, and the moment clicked, just like a moment can when it's the right time and the right place and the right person and the frame of mind. And then he kissed her, and it wasn't a fumbled occasion like his attempted kiss of Tanith last year had been, because she clearly wanted it too, and kissed him back. And even though Annie was somebody that he'd known for six years, and he'd only ever paid the slightest amount of attention to her in Potions or Defence, and didn't exactly know her much better after an evening of flirting and dancing, that didn't _matter_, because they both knew that it was just a kiss. And although a kiss could lead possibly to more kisses, and an unknown territory beyond that, right then it was just a kiss, neither of them caring that they were under the stars and in a crowded street in Hogsmeade – for on a dramatic New Year's Eve, what was one more couple in each other's arms?

§

"Just as well Tobias has been paying more attention to his bloody Gryffindor than me," Tanith mumbled bitterly as she poured the last of a bottle of Firewhiskey into her glass and drank it quickly. She felt fuzzy, but _certainly _not drunk enough for New Year's celebrations, as Cal and Gabriel had happily helped her with the bottle. The moment Tobias had begun snogging MacKenzie under the stars without the slightest regard for the rest of the world, she'd known she needed a heavy drink, and Cal had been happy to provide.

As she said, Tobias was too distracted to remember his earlier assertion that they would not be drinking alcohol. After all, he was the one panicking about them making it back to Slytherin common room without being caught, and thus _he _could direct his three tipsy friends if he was so worried about it all. The logic didn't make sense, but Tanith wasn't in a mood for logic.

It was one in the morning, and she was tipsy, and she was tired, and she was sick of the giggly mood everyone had got in. Gabriel and Cal had gone into one of their buddy-buddy modes like they sometimes did when tipsy, much more physical in their interactions, and Tanith didn't want to interrupt in case one of Cal's mighty 'friendly' punches knocked her off her chair. Summerby had given her up as a lost cause, clearly, and was chatting in a friendly but calm manner to Aurora Jameson. If she didn't think the both of them were pillocks, she would have probably thrown in her lot with the pair for normal discussion.

Then there were the two couples, Riley and Wilson, and Tobias and MacKenzie. Nauseating, the lot of them, and she didn't particularly want to glance over at where Tobias and MacKenzie flirted as if they _hadn't _spent half of the night lip-locked, and where Riley sat casually on Wilson's lap as if nobody else was there. Not that Tanith cared too much if the Gryffindors declared their affection, and on a normal day she would concede that they were being casual with each other yet restrained. She was just almightily pissed off.

She stood, yanking Cal to her feet as she did so. "You know, I think we should head back," she declared at last, a little haughtily. "After all, it will be pretty suspicious if we stagger back into the Great Hall at six in the morning having not had any sleep after being out all night."

There was some mumbling at this comment, but eventually Gabriel stood up as well, catching on. Cal patted her on the back slightly, nodding. "Yeah. And Snape will probably want us up before noon, so we can't really afford to turn in _too _late…"

Tobias was staring at them in astonishment. "This is from the people who've been at the Firewhiskey and wanted to go absolutely mad in New Year's celebrations tonight! Now you're becoming a load of boring sods!"

"Yes, well, Firewhiskey does things to you, Grey," Tanith said to him, a bit more venomously than she'd intended – but he didn't seem to notice, and smiled wryly.

"Alright. Yes, it is getting a bit late, and I'd rather not have a mad Snape after me." He turned to MacKenzie, who was still grinning in that knowing way which made Tanith want to punch her. He supposed Tobias would have never gone for some blank blonde bimbo, but there was something _too _aware about MacKenzie which made Tanith think she was doing a lot of this just to annoy others. Herself in particular.

"I don't know how you Gryffindors… and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw… are getting back, but you can fend for yourselves," Tanith told them loudly, then leant heavily on Cal as the two of them and Gabriel began to head down the main road. She didn't want to _see _the inevitable goodbye kiss of Tobias and MacKenzie.

When he caught up with them, finally, they were just stepping through the outskirts of the village, heading off to the hill behind which their passageway back to school could be found. They found themselves automatically slipping into their usual routine when they split somewhat, and although Tanith right then wanted Cal's comforting company more than anything else, she found herself walking unsteadily next to Tobias as Cal and Gabriel walked on ahead.

"Well. Did you have fun?" she asked, managing to induce a certain amount of levity into her voice as they walked, which was impressive considering her primary focus was on not tripping over her own two feet.

"It was a good evening. Remind me not to question you when you tell me to unwind," Tobias said, with a slight smile that she hadn't seen him wear in a while. It was soft, happy, and untroubled – three things she wouldn't usually associate with her friend.

"I'm always right," Tanith mumbled, wishing she were wrong. Then she looked at him slowly. "So. MacKenzie, huh? A Gryffindor for you?"

Tobias' smile broadened. "It's not how it seems. We had a chat, and decided that… tonight was nice. But it doesn't necessarily mean we're going to be spending Valentine's Hogsmeade trip together, or anything. We had a good night, and we enjoyed each others' company, but it doesn't have to be more than that."

"Wow. Tobias going into as much of a one night stand as he'll ever go. This is one for the papers," Tanith said, managing to find a bit more levity. "You know I'd go nuts if you ever paired up with a Gryffindor, though."

Tobias looked at her calmly. "Well, it's not as if there are many options within Slytherin," he said quietly, and a heavy silence fell upon the two of them. "Look, there are… other reasons why I'm feeling happy. Mostly, I've had a great weight lifted off my mind."

"What?" Tanith asked obliviously, stumbling a little on a rock. He reached out to balance her, and for the first time a while, there was little embarrassment in his move.

"You," Tobias told her softly, and Tanith blinked at him, now wishing she didn't feel fuzzy from the alcohol. "Despite what I said a year ago, I hadn't quite… come to terms with the fact that you didn't exactly feel about me the way I felt about you. It still bugged me. Though I sat on it and tried to ignore it and didn't act on it."

"I know," Tanith mumbled. "I'm not blind."

Tobias grimaced. "I think, if nothing else, tonight cured me of that. Pointed out to me that it was just a teenaged infatuation. You're my friend, Tanith, and that means a thousand times more to me than you being my girlfriend would."

Tanith paused as they stepped down to the bottom of the hill, where Gabriel and Cal were winding their way through the undergrowth into the hidden passageway that would take them all the way back up to Hogwarts.

"You're a good friend, Tobias," she told him, and stepped forward slowly to kiss him lightly on the cheek. She hadn't done that in a while, for varying reasons, but he _had _just expressed quite suitably that it was acceptable. She felt her own irritation slide off her slightly at the friendly atmosphere between the two of them.

Tanith paused, kicking a pebble off into the trees. "But if you ever go out with a bloody Gryffindor, I'll have to kill you!"

Tobias laughed, throwing his arm around her shoulder and shepherding her towards the passageway after Gabriel and Cal. "That's the Tanith I know and love, right there. Don't ever change. I need you to keep me grounded."

And so they set off, back to Hogwarts, after a night of madness. This was the last they would speak of such matters in a while, for their friendship seemed set to fall into the pattern it had been in before the Yule Ball, something they had missed in over a year – a year of faint awkwardness and uncertainty.

The fact that they were lying to themselves, and each other, was not a fact that needed to be acknowledged. After all, sometimes the truth can be nothing more than a tool of destruction – and they were more attached to being good friends than to acting on an attraction that would ruin that friendship.

It was all about priorities.


	7. August 24th, 1994 – Fifth Year

**August 24th, 1994**** – Fifth Year**

A horribly loud, deep, thumping noise dragged Tanith Cole from her very weird dreams and into the real world of consciousness. Nasty, painful, head-throbbing consciousness, where to move made her feel sick and the pounding behind her eyeballs increase. What _had _she done last night?

Yanking one of her pillows away and burying her head under it, Tanith did her best to piece it all together from the fractured memories of the evening before. They had all sat around in the living room at Will Rayner's house… Cal's house…? Just relaxing for the evening, preparing before they had to leave for the Quidditch World Cup. Then Gabriel had found Rayner's beers in the fridge, there had been some reminiscing, some discussion of plans for next year… and then… it went hazy.

Slowly, as her mind woke up more – but wished it hadn't – she managed to work out what the thumping noise was as she raised her head slowly. Music. Whatever was going on downstairs, it included music. Maybe, with luck, it would also include breakfast.

She had an odd sensation in her stomach – the idea of food both sickened and encouraged her. Her throat was also parched beyond belief, and though she felt she could shake off the headache with enough gritting of teeth and determination, the only thing that was going to solve the thirst was a drink.

Tanith rolled out of bed and did up the top button on the shirt of her silk pyjamas – the one which would throttle her in her sleep if she left it undone, and she wasn't indecent without it but would rather not parade around the house showing off her chest to three hormonally-imbalanced boys. Not for the first time, she wished that the other girls in Slytherin weren't simpering ninnies and were actually feasible candidates for friends.

She grabbed her overly large dressing gown, which could have suitably covered her by itself, though you could never be too sure, then headed for the door. Her temples were still throbbing in protest, and her feet felt unsteady, but she, Tanith Cole, was not going to be brought down by a damn hangover. Whatever the hell she'd done last night, she would deal with it with poise and dignity, and ignore any sniggering from the other three.

Tobias probably wouldn't laugh. He was so uptight at times that he'd probably be more embarrassed than she was. Cal had been drunk too, so couldn't comment… but unfortunately, Gabriel could make enough snide comments to compensate for his friends' silence. And probably would.

The music – whatever the hell this rubbish was, it sounded Muggle, and she didn't approve – came louder as she descended the stairs and headed for the source of it: the kitchen. A glance out the window had told her it was already light, and thus, Rayner would have already left the house, leaving it in the hands of four teenagers. Foolish man.

The sight that greeted her in the kitchen was enough to solidify that assertion indefinitely. Cal was perched on the counter next to a hi-fi which blared the music, still wearing the same rumpled clothes as last night and – she noted smugly – looking worse than she felt. Tobias was standing next to him, in a ruffled shirt and his boxers, buttering a load of bread with the same neat efficiency he handled everything. And, standing at the stove and wearing only a pair of tracksuit bottoms, was Gabriel, the unmistakeable sizzle of bacon rising over the din of the music. She wasn't particularly surprised by any of their appearances, least of all Gabriel – for some reason, the sight of him shirtless wasn't as astonishing as most people would have thought. It was just… what… Gabriel Doyle did, and she didn't give it a second thought.

None of them noticed her, so preoccupied in their various tasks were they, until she reached out and turned off the radio, cutting out the racket which had woken her up in the first place and wasn't sounding any better now she was down there.

Three heads whirled around to stare at her, in varying degrees of shock or surprise. Tobias was the first to react, sighing with relief and nodding gratefully. "Thank _God_. You have any idea how much I've been trying to convince them to turn it off for the past half-hour?" he said, then turned his attention back to the bread. Whatever had happened last night, it had clearly sapped him of his energy.

Cal grunted. "I didn't want it on. My head's killing me," he groaned, rubbing his temples.

Gabriel glanced at them all. "Then why the hell was it on in the first place?" he demanded, flipping the bacon over. "You think I'd have listened to that Muggle trash voluntarily?"

Tobias shrugged. "I don't know. It was just on when I came in. I assumed one of you two had turned it on."

Cal shrugged, falling off the counter and on to his feet with a whimper. "Will probably switched it on to wake us up before he left for work." He groaned and collapsed onto one of the chairs around the table in the kitchen. "I wish he'd get back soon; I could use one of his anti-hangover charms."

"Stop whining. It was your own fault," Tobias mumbled, shaking his head. At last he glanced at Tanith again. "And how are you feeling? The elephants are on the march this morning?" he asked dryly.

The hint of a smile tugged at her lips, and she walked over to one of the cupboards and pulled out a glass. "I'll be fine. I just need a drink," she said, getting the carton of orange juice out of the fridge and pouring herself some. "That smells good, Doyle."

"Of course it does. I don't know why _I _end up as the one who has to cook, but I'm sure I do it better than either of these two monkeys," Gabriel sighed. "Bacon sandwiches… Muggles may be stupid about many things, but food isn't one. It's not even that complicated without magic." He glanced over at Cal. "You want one too, Caldwyn? Maybe with a fried egg?"

The groan from Cal in response was quite enough to let them know that he did not, in fact, want a bacon sandwich, with or without a fried egg.

Tanith's eyes fell on Tobias, and she frowned slightly as she leant against the wall, staring at him for a few moments, her mind demanding that she concentrate on and remember something. But she couldn't quite grasp what it was… the conversation had been all of them, but for some reason he was at the centre of the memory…

Before she could get it, however, he obviously sensed her looking at him, and glanced up uncomfortably. He was wearing his glasses this morning, and although he regularly denied that his contact lenses changed his eye colour in any way, their blue did seem mistier somehow. "What?" Tobias asked suspiciously, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Did we talk last night?" Tanith asked at last, frowning and deciding that she might as well find out what it was. She also ignored Gabriel's brief snigger at this. "I just have a vague memory of… some… conversation with you."

"Ah, so you're not amazingly hung-over, but your memory's still groggy," Tobias said, obviously gambling for more time. "But yeah, we talked. Everyone talked. There was nothing specific with us." He paused, then smirked a forced smirk. "You had had _way _too much to drink last night."

"Oh, I know _that_," Tanith said with an impatient wave of the hand. "But there's something… something I did…" Her voice trailed off, and she didn't put much stock in the nervous expression that crossed Tobias's face. "Something to do with prefects."

Inexplicably, he smirked. "Oh, yeah. You decided to get your badge out and practice your disciplinary speeches. As I recall, you gave Gabriel a detention for being too secretive, Cal a detention for being too chirpy and too Welsh, and myself a detention for being an insufferable prat."

Tanith narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to one side as she observed him. "I suppose you are an insufferable prat. Yeah, definitely. Too much of a geek. You know, I think it has something to do with the glasses… they just don't quite do you any favours…"

"Watch out, mate, she'll be giving you a makeover before you know it," Cal mumbled from where he had collapsed on the table. He raised his head to look at Tanith. "I still can't get used to you without your long hair."

"I had this done at the beginning of the holidays, I figured you'd be used to it by now," Tanith reminded him, running a hand through her now slightly fluffy hair. It always looked terrible in the mornings, but short hair, she found, was infinitely more practical.

"Done!" Gabriel declared smugly, grabbing a fork and heading over to where Tobias had left the buttered bread, frying pan in hand. He skewered the bits of bacon and placed three slices each on the three sandwiches prepared in advance. "Now eat up, and enjoy. Caldwyn, I suggest you try some cereal, or something not too sickly or greasy."

"Since when did you become a mother hen?" Cal wondered, but stood up and went to take the milk out of the fridge.

Tanith grabbed her sandwich cheerfully, the sickly feeling in her stomach fading distinctly as she began to eat. "So, last day we'll be doing this. Then we've got camping, Quidditch and… return to Hogwarts." The best thing about Hogwarts, Tanith reasoned, was that you weren't disappointed when the holidays ended, as returning there was always pretty great.

"How much work have you lot been doing?" Tobias asked cheerfully, taking a large bite from his sandwich and making an appreciative sound. "I mean, we've got our OWLs this year. Got to be prepared. I haven't seen any of you look at a book since we got here."

Similar looks of horror were fixed on him as his three friends gaped for a moment. Tanith exchanged a glance with Gabriel, then sighed with relief as Cal decided to field this particular piece of vintage Tobias Grey bollocks.

"Tobias… it's the _summer holidays_," Cal declared with shock. "We have a _year _until our OWLs. Well, near enough," he conceded as Tobias opened his mouth to correct him. "Not everyone's as anal retentive as you."

Tobias smirked, used to such treatment. "Alright… I'll just laugh at you all when you get D's on your papers," he declared with the tone of smugness that irritated Tanith more than any of his other little foibles.

"Oh, we'll do fine," Gabriel assured him, perching on the table and devouring his sandwich. "I know everything I need to sail my way to a load of sweet P's."

Tobias opened his mouth to doubtless fill the room with one of his rambles about the importance of schoolwork, but Tanith decided to cut him off before he could get going. "Oh, unclench, Grey," she sighed, taking a large gulp of her orange juice and feeling the sickliness of the hangover wear off distinctly as she did so. "He's kidding; you know Doyle's all but guaranteed at least an A or an E in everything."

"Of course," Gabriel declared immodestly. "And don't forget the O in Divination. I may have zero psychic ability, but I'm very good at bullshitting," he declared, leaning back and half-closing his eyes in the way he always did when doing Divination homework and picking a prediction up at random from the text book. He grinned at last. "No, I'll do best on Ancient Runes, probably."

"You're not bad at that," Tobias conceded. "But I'll keep my focus on Potions and Arithmancy…"

"_And _History of Magic, _and _Transfiguration, _and _Charms, _and _Defence Against the Dark Arts," Tanith completed for him. "You've had your decision on which NEWTs you were going to take since you were six, weren't you."

Tobias fixed her with his most venomous – which meant, in Tanith's eyes, most amusing – glare before drawing himself to his full, not inconsiderable height. "Just because _some _of us have a bit of an idea as to what they wish to do with their futures doesn't mean you should mock them for it."

"Yes it does," Cal interjected solemnly from the table, which he was again sprawled across.

"Oh, shut up and study some proper subjects," Tobias snorted. "Muggle Studies… what a waste of time; you could just ask Rayner if there's anything you possibly need to know about the Muggle world…"

"I know," Cal groaned. "Why do you think I took the bloody subject in the first place, you prat?"

"And Care of Magical Creatures?" Tobias continued, ignoring Cal's interruption. "There's a pointless piece of learning for a wizard if there ever was one…"

"Hey!" Tanith swatted him on the arm. "Just because you think that anything other than Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are a waste of time because they're not _academic _enough doesn't mean you don't have to bring down everyone else who thinks differently to you."

Tobias blinked, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course it does. My word is law, and anyone who disagrees with me is obviously a pillock," he declared with absolute mock-smugness.

"You're insufferable," Tanith sighed, shaking her head and taking a step back.

"Thank you," Tobias replied casually, then glanced over at Gabriel, who seemed to be the only person speaking coherently who wasn't insulting him. "So do you know when we're setting off? Rayner's coming back here and we'll be heading for the camp site this afternoon?"

"Great. We have to kill twenty-four hours with a thousand and one other crazy wizards before the actual fun starts," Tanith said, rubbing her eyes wearily.

Tobias raised an eyebrow as he glanced at her. "Right little ray of sunshine today, aren't you?"

Gabriel lifted a hand to forestall any more bickering, much to Tanith's disappointment. "Take it easy, you two. Handbags at dawn are _not _allowed at the camp site, I'm sure," he said in a voice of intense weariness, then looked over at Tobias. "And yes, that's what Rayner said. He'd be back after lunch, and we'd all set off. I'm amazed he's taking time off for the match at all."

"He _does _take breaks," Cal grunted from where he was still sprawled across the table. "He hasn't in a while, but when I was little he did. Oh, he had to keep up his work, which is why he sent me to a boarding school, but he does have an appreciation for leisure time."

"Yeah?" Gabriel shrugged. "Haven't seen it. Those Unspeakables are all the same. They do a good job, but it's work, work, work. Rayner's a nice guy, but he doesn't seem like the sort who'd take a break from his high and mighty duty to go surfing."

Tanith eyed Cal, managing to not show how nervous she was. Gabriel's words were just creeping on the boundaries of being insulting, and she wasn't sure how a hung-over and irritable Welshman might react. Fortunately, Cal either didn't hear, didn't notice or didn't care, as he didn't react with much venom.

"He does," Cal mumbled. "I should know, I've known him a touch longer than you have."

Tobias grimaced as he finished off his sandwich. "So, do you lot know anything about setting up tents?" he asked quickly, obviously wanting to cut off any potential arguments before they started. Cal and Gabriel weren't in the regular habit of sniping at each other, but when they did it tended to fall to Tobias to play peacekeeper, Tanith had noticed.

Gabriel snorted. "Hell, no! What do you take me for?"

"Someone useful," Tanith said, rolling her eyes. She glanced at Tobias. "If we're talking tents of the Muggle variety, I don't have a bloody clue. But normal tents… sure, no problem. How big is it? Two bedroom? Three?"

"Three. So, as usual, you'll get to enjoy a room to yourself whilst I have to languish with these two delinquents," Tobias told her, his voice and expression utterly deadpan, but with a distinctly amused look in his eyes.

"Hey. At least I don't snore," Cal said, opening one eye to squint at them all and glare a little at Tobias.

"You did last night," Gabriel said casually as he took a sip of his glass of pumpkin juice. "Dead to the world, you were. Well, no…" His voice trailed off, and he considered this. "You weren't even _on _this world. Tobias here was dead to the world – I don't know what you did to traumatise the poor guy in your drunken ramblings, Tanith, but he was definitely fairly distracted."

Tanith had noticed many times in her four years of knowing Tobias Grey that he never did anything half-heartedly. Usually this worked fairly well for him, as it gave him the drive to succeed at most things he set his mind to – or at least meant that he cared enough to whine for days if he failed at it. Less fortunately, it meant that when something went wrong, it _really _went wrong. In addition, it meant that his blushing was not subtle, and she couldn't have failed to notice that he had turned absolutely bright red as he turned away to get himself a drink.

Tanith, fortunately, was one of the lucky people who could keep her cool whatever the situation. "I don't want to _know _what I did," she lied with confident certainty. "And whatever it is, Grey, if you value your life, you will take the secret with you to the grave."

Tobias mumbled something indecipherable under his breath, then took a large gulp of orange juice as his complexion began to turn to normal. "Don't worry. Not even under Veritaserum is this secret escaping."

Tanith silently swore, promising to herself that if she found out from anyone but him, she'd have to kill him. "Men. You're all the same," she mumbled, glaring at Gabriel in particular. "I'll leave you to your own devices – some of us, unlike you, value personal hygiene. This means I'm first to use the shower."

Cal sat up, obviously too fast as he winced quickly. "But you use up all the water…"

"Should have got there sooner," was all Tanith had to say unsympathetically as she put her glass down and hurried out of the kitchen.

§

"Cal! Will you put that bloody flag down before you end up shoving it in my ear! You're not Irish, you never have been, you have no Irish roots, so for the love of God, stop trying to sing the national anthem!" Tobias squawked as he swatted the great Irish flag Cal was waving away from himself.

It was true that Gabriel had been the one to secure the seats at the Quidditch World Cup, a rather impressive achievement in itself. With a father in a highly important position up at the Ministry, contact had been made with the right people, and a mere two weeks before the final, Adonis Doyle had swooped down to present the Slytherins with five tickets. Expectedly, the only parent to volunteer had been the non-parent but guardian William Rayner.

"Altair did say he would have come along," Tanith had said, explaining why her tutor hadn't attended, "but apparently Dad had something important for him left to do. I don't ask what he does anymore; but it's pretty funny to watch them all think I still believe he's nothing more than a teacher."

Truth be told, Tobias wasn't too sad that Altair Ritter hadn't been the one to watch over them. He was a reasonable man, yes, but still scared the living hell out of Tobias, and was likely to be distinctly more strict than the laid-back Rayner. Rayner knew what the 'kids' were like, and was happy to allow them to act as such. Altair Ritter expected a certain amount more decorum.

It would have meant no Butterbeer Extra, for starters.

"Not Irish?" Cal sounded affronted when Tobias finally tuned back into the matter at hand. "Of _course _I'm not Irish! I don't want to be! I am Welsh, proud of it, and today I am merely supporting my Celtic friends in spirit! You, as an arsehole of an Englishman, with your racist jackboots trampling over Scotland, Wales, _and _Ireland, cannot _hope _to comprehend the true depth of this solidarity, and –"

"Cal, shut up," Tanith mumbled from where she was stuck on the bench in between the two bickering friends. She had the knees of some ancient wizard in her back, was bracketed by what she would happily call a pair of morons, and it was only the fact that they were at the front of the third level of the stand was stopping her from killing someone.

Yes, Adonis Doyle had got them tickets, but they weren't particularly _good _tickets. He'd kept those for himself, to wiggle up to the top box so he could observe the match in style.

"I have nothing against the Irish!" Tobias had to retort, much to Tanith's despair. It would be impossible for them to avoid bickering forever, especially when one of them had cast accusations deemed to be unfair at the other. "You're just bloody racist against the _English_…"

"It's defence," Cal declared haughtily. "After your evil, thieving and pillaging conquest of the great untamed native Welsh soil, you –"

"Cal, shut up," Gabriel contributed from the other side of him. "Besides, you're talking about Muggle stuff. That's irrelevant. If I paid any attention to Binns' class at all, it did teach me that the Welsh wizards had fun marauding around the northern parts of England…"

"Yes, in _retaliation _against the marching of the Muggles on their native soil! They marched in protection and retaliation, and no unity between Muggles and wizard-druids could quite stand against them," Cal retorted, so high on his horse that he couldn't quite see the wood for trees.

"Cal, that war was one of the earliest recordings of Dark Magic. No grand crusade, just death. Both sides used it, in fact. Back then it was just considered to be a greater source of power. They didn't realise the consequences of such magic," Tobias said softly, drawing on his always considerable historical knowledge to bring the discussion to a screeching halt.

A deep pause hit them all, broken only by the shuffling of Tanith's feet. "So. Let's watch the game, shall we?"

"Krum's going to get the Snitch. He's better than Lynch by miles," Cal said at last, nodding and clearing his throat a little.

"I thought the Irish squad was meant to be stronger this year?" the Quidditch-impaired Tobias asked weakly.

"They are. And I think they'll win," Tanith interjected, shrugging. "But Krum's the better flier. Everyone's saying they haven't seen anyone with his talent in decades. Though I've never seen him fly before."

"He'll grow into that talent," Gabriel perked up, nodding firmly. "He's, what, only a year or two older than us? Seekers develop."

"Ah. I see," Tobias said, not seeing. He shook his head. "So what's the point of this game? They have to get the Snitch through the hoops, is that it?"

Of course, having spent four years at Hogwarts and with an obsessive like Cal for a friend, Tobias knew the rules, and could on occasion find Quidditch amusing – though it was better when the players crashed, in his opinion – but it was always worthwhile to act dumb just to watch Cal do his nut.

"The _Quaffle_, you idiot!" Cal exclaimed, looking like he might have a cardiac arrest. "It's all about –"

"_Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!_"

"That's Ludo Bagman commenting," Cal hissed to Tanith over Tobias's head. "You know – bloke who used to play for England? And the Wasps?"

"What, the Muggle rugby team?" Tobias asked, getting a swat on the shoulder from Tanith. He could see she shared his mirth, but it was probably best not to taunt Cal much further. He seemed too excited for it to be a good idea.

"_And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian Team Mascots!_"

"Uh-oh," Gabriel mumbled, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a pair of enchanted earplugs. The others stared at him, nonplussed, and watched as he shoved them in his ears and winked at Tanith.

"What's that all about…?" Tobias asked, one eyebrow raised as they focused their attention back on the pitch before them. "What are the Bulgarian mascots?"

Cal shrugged. "I dunno, mate. It just looks like they've got a lot of…" He raised his Omnioculars. "I don't see much. Just a load of birds meandering out onto the pitch."

Tobias gaped. "_Birds_?"

"He means in the actual women sense," Tanith said coolly, looking at the two of them with an air of amusement. "But he's still wrong. They're not women. They're Veela. The Bulgarians love them, unsurprisingly."

Cal and Tobias exchanged looks. Beside them, Gabriel had his eyes closed and was humming happily to himself. "_Veela_?"

Then the music started, and Tobias raised his glasses slightly to peer down at the pitch where, indeed, a hundred or so gorgeous women were dancing. It was a most pleasant display, of course, and moderately captivating, but of all he'd read about Veela, he'd expected to be more… grabbed.

Beside him, Cal seemed quite captivated, though, on his feet and pressed against the barrier at the front of this level of the stand. His lips were moving wordlessly, and he seemed to be trying to figure something out as he stood there.

"This is quite fascinating," Tobias said, turning to Tanith, who was eyeing him dubiously. "But, I don't know; I'd expected more."

"Nobody else did," Tanith said slowly, frowning a little and gesturing around, where it seemed a lot of the men were as captivated as Cal. "What's up with you? Why haven't you been reduced to a gibbering wreck? I mean, Doyle had enough sense to stop his ears, but Cal… well, look at him."

Tobias did, dubiously, then glanced back at Tanith. "What? _You _don't seem affected."

Tanith took the deep breath of one who has suffered greatly. "That would be because I'm a girl, Grey." A slow, teasing smile tugged at her lips. "You're not gay, are you? Because that might affect the influence the Veela have on you."

"You _what_?" Tobias stared at her for a long moment. "I'm… I'm not gay! I'm as straight as a broomstick! I just… they're very pretty, but I'm not about to jump off the stadium for them!" he exclaimed indignantly, reaching out with one hand to yank Cal back just in case he got that particular idea in his head.

"Interesting. You don't have an immunity to love potions, do you?" Tanith asked, smirking still.

"Nobody's ever bloody tried one. I'm quite capable of mastering my emotions," Tobias retorted, glowering.

"Really? Maybe this just means you don't have enough passion in you to react to them. You could be all shrivelled up inside, incapable of feeling emotion? Did you think of that?" Tanith asked, folding her arms across her chest and clearly fighting off the smirks that threatened.

"You… you…" Tobias spluttered for a long moment, then leaned towards her intently. "I am not gay, and I am not incapable of feeling emotion. I can feel plenty of emotion, thank you very bloody much."

"Then how come you haven't had a girlfriend?"

"You haven't had a boyfriend!"

"I went out with Miles Bletchley last year, if you bother to remember!"

Tobias snorted. "For about five minutes. That doesn't count. You wouldn't say it would count if I'd been out with Melanie Larkin for two days last year, would you."

"Well, no. But there's a chance I'm sitting around and waiting for the right individual at the right time to pop along. We're not _talking _about _my _love life here, if you recall correctly!" Tanith said defensively, straightening up imperiously.

"Hey, you brought us onto this topic. If you're going to challenge my love life, I have the right to challenge yours. After all, our lives affect each other right now and for the next few years, so I'm pretty sure our love lives are entwined in a similar way!" Tobias snapped, glowering at her slightly.

"What? What the hell do you mean, _entwined_? Because if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Grey, then I think you can –"

"Ahem."

They turned around suddenly, knocked out of their intensive bickering by Gabriel's clearing of his throat. The other boy was sitting in his chair, his earplugs in his hand, looking at them dubiously. Beside him sat Cal, who was staring off into space and idly ripping his Ireland flag apart as the Irish national anthem hummed weakly from it. The Veelas were all gone from the pitch.

"If you two ladies are done… the leprechauns are next?" Gabriel sounded highly amused, but in that deadpan way which just let them _know _he wouldn't forget this any time soon and that he'd use it against them the next time he was given the slightest opportunity.

Tobias yanked the Irish flag from Cal, jerking him out of his reverie, and nudged his friend firmly as he nodded at the giant comet of gold and green hurtling around. "I think you might find this a touch more impressive than some scantily-clad tarts gyrating."

Cal paused, probably at the word gyrating, and Tobias realised it had to have been a bad choice. Fortunately, however, they didn't have much of a chance to debate this when the comet split off and began to drop the golden galleons everywhere.

"Fantastic!" Tanith exclaimed at last, leaving it rather unsurprising that it would be money that might jerk her into action as she caught a few. Gabriel eyed her dubiously for a second, then winced as a coin bounced off his head painfully.

"You do know that leprechaun gold disappears after a while?" Gabriel asked cautiously, one hand raised above his head to fend off any more threatening coins that might try to concuss him today.

"Of course." Tanith gave him a scathing look, still catching galleons. "I'm going to spend it in the shops outside. They won't know the difference, I'm sure, and we'll be long gone by the time it disappears."

"That's called theft, Tanith," Tobias said wryly, his eyes still on the magnificent display of colour from the horde of flying leprechauns.

"It's called resourcefulness, Grey," Tanith retorted.

"And people wonder why Slytherin gets called the House of Evil," Cal mused, shaking his head.

"No. They just don't understand. They'd do it too, only they're too dumb to think of it themselves," Tanith said with simple conviction.

"_And now, ladies and gentleman, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch team_!"

Tanith applauded heavily at Bagman's voice. "You keep your shamrock, Cal – I'm rooting for these guys."

"But… the Veelas didn't affect you," Cal said weakly, looking at her in a confused way.

Tanith rolled her eyes. "I think I can like the Bulgarian team for reasons other than sex, Cal. It's just you men who have problems with it. Oh, except for Tobias, but that's because he's either gay or emotionally useless." She smirked at Tobias' glower. "He might be celibate, too."

"Are you just persisting in questioning –"

"_Dimitrov! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaand – **Krum**!_"

Fortunately, the roar of the crowd at the Bulgarian team banished the end of Tobias' sentence to the wind, so he gave up and sat in a vaguely sulky silence, clapping in an absent sort of way for the Bulgarian Quidditch team.

"_And now, please great – the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting – Connolly! Ryan! __Troy__! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaand – **Lynch**!_"

Cal let out a cackle of delight as he practically bounced up and down on his chair, and punched Tobias companionably on the shoulder. "Come on, Toby – today… today, you're going to see Quidditch as it's never been played before. And Hogwarts matches will look dull in comparison!"

As the players hurtled out onto the pitch and Cal stood to cheer with the rest of the crowd, Tobias reasoned it would probably not be a good idea to point out that he thought Hogwarts matches were dull anyway.

§

"You can't deny that this was absolutely bloody amazing!" Cal exclaimed, elbowing a fairly tired Tobias as they sat around the merrily blazing campfire outside their tent the following night, clutching bottle of Butterbeer Extra that had been pretty easy to get hold of in the rather frantic and informal atmosphere of the World Cup and cheerfully dissecting the game they had just witnessed.

"I'm not denying it." Tanith smirked at the still slightly subdued Tobias, whose glazed-over eyes were fixed on the flickering fire as he swigged from his can every few moments, ignoring the rambling of his friends. "Only the dull one here is."

"The dull one here is sick of going over a Quidditch game for four hours straight," Tobias mumbled, resting his head in one hand and lifting his bottle of Butterbeer to his lips with the other.

"Then go to bed. We're not keeping you here," Cal said lightly, still grinning and perfectly jovial even in the early hours of the morning. Rayner had gone to bed some time earlier, leaving his foster-son and friends to their own devices. Gabriel had headed off a short time ago on one of his walks, and they only hoped he wouldn't trip over a lingering guy rope and bring down any annoyed wizards.

"What, in this racket?" Tobias said, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know how Will's managing to get to sleep at all."

This was, in fact, a mystery. People were staying awake long into the night, huddling around campfires, drinking various things, singing, dancing, celebrating, and generally making quite a suitable noise.

Cal shrugged. "Will can sleep anywhere," he said casually. "He says it's a lesson learnt from working in the field."

"Obviously it was this particular field, as he seems dead to the world," Tanith observed, leaning back to poke her head in the tent and check on the man responsible for them. "He's very casual about us, isn't he?"

Tobias narrowed his eyes cautiously as Cal threw a glare at Tanith. "He knows what he's doing," the Welshman warned her slowly. "He's not neglectful. He's taken good care of me my entire life, and just knows that there's a stage when we start to spread our wings and get some freedom."

Tobias leant forwards, grinning the hopeful grin he wore when trying to disarm a situation. "And you don't want to complain about _that_, Tanith, do you! Otherwise we'd be in bed, beer-less."

Tanith smiled thinly, but her eyes were twinkling and she nodded and winked at Cal, who seemed to calm down. "I wasn't complaining," she said calmly. "Just observing. It's pretty cool."

"My mum would have a fit," Tobias mused sombrely, looking into his Butterbeer bottle. "What she doesn't know can't hurt me."

"My parents wouldn't care," Tanith said, waving her hand dismissively and seeming a little too casual in her words and manner. "They leave me to my own devices even more than Will does, and don't care the way he does."

"Count yourself lucky. You don't want to have a woman swooping around you all the time, making sure you're not doing anything wrong and acting as if you're still eleven," Tobias said, still a little gloomy.

Cal smiled wickedly. "How do you think Gabe's parents deal with him?" he asked cheerfully.

Tanith rolled her eyes. "Yikes… Having a son who's the most secretive little bugger alive and has a tendency to go and lurk off in the middle of nowhere on his own for hours at a time can hardly encourage the most closely-knit of families."

"Well, none of us were born in the most family-building of times," Tobias observed, knocking his bottle lightly against Cal's. "Rise of You-Know-Who, and all that."

"Yeah, having Death Eaters for parents can kinda throw a spanner into the works," Cal said, shaking his head and looking totally unconcerned. Tobias had to know by now that his friend didn't dwell on his parentage, but still looked as if felt a bit stupid for bringing it up.

They fell silent for a few moments, listening to the cheers of celebrating Ireland fans, the crackling of the campfires, the shuffling as wizards and witches moved around. Suddenly the noise of the campsite seemed that much quieter, and as they strained their ears through the lull to make sure they were only imagining it, another rush of sound finally reached them, filling the gap left by the previous silence.

Cal stood slowly, the only slightly alcoholic Butterbeer Extra making him feel a numbness behind his eyes but not affecting him much more than that. "What's… what's going on?" he asked quietly.

Screams could be heard from back towards the centre of the camp site.

Tobias was on his feet in a second. "Doesn't sound good, whatever it is," he said, watching as the campfires flickered more and more, extinguishing, and the noise of the shrieks and commotion rising. In the camps near them, other wizards and witches were similarly rising, looking around in a confused fashion towards where chaos seemed to be rising.

A shuffling from behind them prompted them all to turn around, and Will Rayner emerged from the tent, his grey hair sticking out at odd enough angles to show that he had indeed been asleep, but his eyes and posture spoke of an activity and a vitality which didn't quite suggest that he had been anything except wide awake all night.

"What's going on?" he asked intently, cool and professional as he adjusted the collar of the Muggle polo shirt he wore and gripped his long wand firmly, casting his green eyes around the campsite.

Cal shrugged, not even slightly surprised by Rayner's sudden emergence. "We're not sure. Everything was calm just now, and then… screaming, coming over from the centre of the campsite," he reported almost automatically.

Rayner nodded, narrowing his eyes through the gloom to try and see what was going on. "Right. I should get going. You three… stay here," he said coolly, pointing at them steadily and heading off into the darkness, striding with an authoritative air.

Tanith glanced around slowly, looking suspicious as Rayner disappeared. "Where the hell is Doyle?" she asked, her voice low and sounding a little worried.

Cal chewed on his lower lip. "He can take care of himself," he said, a little dismissively, although he didn't feel all that convinced by his own words.

"How do you know?" Tobias challenged, staring after where Rayner had headed off to. "We don't know what's going on, so how are we supposed to know if he can handle it?" He sat back down slowly, his beer abandoned, looking very discontented.

"Will's going out to find him," Cal said with more certainty.

"Will didn't seem to notice he was gone." Tanith peered into the gloom pensively.

"He noticed," Cal said, again with a sizeable amount of conviction.

"Will has other things to worry about," Tobias pointed out. "He has to find out what's going on and deal with it. I doubt looking out for Gabriel is going to thus be his number one priority in a crisis."

Tanith nodded, yanking Tobias to his feet. "Come on, Grey. We'd better go look for him. God knows what Doyle's liable to find himself mixed up in," she said, Tobias co-operating willingly as they both pulled out their wands.

Cal's hand unhappily settled around his own. "Will told us to stay here," he protested weakly, though he knew that it was no good.

"Who knows what's out there?" Tobias said, shrugging. "It might be nothing."

"Then Gabe will be quite alright," Cal said defensively.

"But it could be serious," Tanith countered.

"Then we shouldn't move!"

She grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him out into the darkness after Tobias, who had already departed. "Stop being stupid, Brynmor," she scolded. "Come on, Doyle might be in some serious trouble. Who _knows _what's going on?"

"Yeah." Tobias glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "I mean, I always have to keep you two in line and stop you from doing the stupid things. Don't take my job away from me here, mate," he said.

Cal shoved his fists into his pockets and trailed after his friends reluctantly, fatigue and slight tipsiness tugging at him, but able to push it to the back of his mind. "I knew that git's loner tendencies would land us in a big pile of… rubbish some day," he mumbled discontentedly.

"Come on," Tobias instructed, sounding impatient as he continued to stride through the camp, Tanith scurrying along in his wake and Cal slouching unhappily behind. Other people from nearby campsites were similarly roused by the commotion and were huddling around their fires, seeming to try and work out was going on.

Cal could hear snippets of worried conversation, hushed mumblings and confused mutters from those they passed by as they moved along, and he was surprised to note how extensive the undercurrent of fear seemed to run. These were people who were part of a society which had been deeply scarred by fear, and weren't about to let old habits die.

"Tanith! Grey! Brynmor!" An imperative voice rang through the darkness, and a slightly-built boy a little shorter than Cal appeared at Tanith's side, brushing his bedraggled blonde-white hair out of his eyes and wearing an unreadable expression.

"Draco?" Tanith came to a halt, as did the others, and gathered around him. "What the hell's going on here?"

Draco Malfoy shrugged. Cal peered at him suspiciously – despite the insanity and the fact that Malfoy seemed a little flustered, there was still that underlying smugness the boy always emanated radiating off him.

"I'm not entirely sure," Malfoy replied, sounding oddly confident. "Security here is a complete and utter joke – nobody seems to know, and nobody's got anything under control. Fudge really doesn't have a single clue –"

"Have you seen Gabriel Doyle anywhere?" Cal demanded, interrupting roughly. He rarely had time for Malfoy's ramblings.

Malfoy raised an elegant eyebrow. "Doyle?"

"Yeah, the sneaky little bugger who occasionally hangs around with us. The one who beat the tar out of that Gryffindor prat Harding last year," Tobias prompted, not having much more fondness for Malfoy than Cal, but seeming ready to put that aside to get answers.

Malfoy shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him. But in this chaos there could be anyone lurking absolutely anywhere… it's complete insanity."

Something about his attitude didn't quite ring true with Cal, but he didn't have the patience for Malfoy and his nonsense as he grabbed Tanith and Tobias and yanked them further along. "Right, thanks, whatever," he mumbled over his shoulder.

"See you later, Draco," Tanith added hurriedly, seeming to see the importance of moving along but apparently not wanting to be rude.

There was yet more chaos where they'd got; more people running around, screams of fear filling the air and the complete insanity apparently growing. But there was no obvious sight yet of what had caused the pandemonium.

"Oh, God," Tobias groaned, suddenly coming to a halt, Tanith bumping into his back and Cal stopping next to them. Ahead of them stood a small procession of tall, dark, masked wizards, waving their wands as all around stared, gaped, then seemed to move on in fear. There was no sight of anyone even vaguely authoritative in the area.

But what made the view even more terrifying was the fact that these dark wizards had people suspended in mid air, making them twirl around and bob up and down, rotate and dip. It didn't take more than a few seconds for Cal to recognise one man as Roberts, the Muggle groundskeeper, and guess that the others were his family. It took even less time after that for him to put two and two together and an ancient memory tug at him to identify the masked wizards.

"Death Eaters," he choked, causing Tobias and Tanith to look sharply at him, confused. "Sweet Jesus…" He looked around wildly, trying to avert his eyes from the sickening sight, looking at the crowds to see if there could be anyone who would stop it. But there wasn't – people were gaping, staring, and then moving on. "Merlin! Why isn't anyone stopping them?" he gasped.

Tobias's jaw was set, and it looked as if he too was trying to quell anger, though there was a light of fear in his eyes. Tanith merely looked sickened and disgusted.

"Because they're not stupid," she mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away. "This… job for Aurors…" Her voice trailed off. "We need to find Gabriel. Quickly."

"Yeah," Tobias said, grabbing her by the elbow and pushing Cal along. The Welshman was still staring at the masked Death Eaters, feeling sick and horrified, and was barely aware of his friend's nudging. But he did move along reluctantly, knowing he couldn't make much of a move and just silently willing Rayner to come along and sort them out.

"Let's just go find Gabe," Tobias said quietly to him, knocking him out of his reverie and prompting them to move along, heading towards the small copse organised for Apparating.

Cal nodded. "He'll probably be in there. He likes his woodland," he mumbled.

"Let's just find him and wait in the woods until this all blows over. I'm not too inclined to go back out there," Tanith said, looking a lot edgier than Cal could remember having ever seen her to be.

"Yeah." Tobias nodded fervently. "But we're never going to find him in this gloom. We'll have to wait for him to come to us, and you now what that sneaky, lurking, skulking, suspicious little bugger is like. He'll –"

"Someone say my name?"

Cal jumped so much he thought he'd hit his head on the low hanging branches of the outermost trees of the copse as Gabriel emerged from around the far side of the nearest trunk, looking as casual and unconcerned as ever.

"Doyle! Where the hell were you?" Tanith grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him back towards the gloom of the wood. "We were looking for you, you great lug! Come on – we have to get out of here."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed as he looked at where there were still a few flickering campfires left, and the procession of Death Eaters was now resisting the efforts of the Ministry officials to get to the Roberts'.

"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.

"You mean you didn't realise something was wrong from the screaming?" Tobias demanded, sounding exasperated as he grabbed Gabriel's other arm and helped Tanith in pulling him along. "The place has gone completely topsy-turvy; there's no way that –"

For the second time in a few scant seconds, Tobias was interrupted – this time not by anyone speaking, but rather the sudden flaring of magic from somewhere in the vicinity and a flash of green above prompting them all to stop and stare at the sky.

Again, Cal felt sick as recognition hit him, and a wave of nausea swept over him. Even as Tobias and Tanith started to tug on a stunned Gabriel, Cal's knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He knew he'd never known what the implications of the Dark Mark had used to be, but he'd had his taster of that flavour of terror, and was not anxious for another.

Surprisingly strong hands gripped his shoulders and hauled him to his feet, and Gabriel clapped him on the back, pushing him forwards firmly. "Come on, Cal. Let's get out of here," he murmured in his friend's ear, almost echoing Tobias and Tanith's earlier words, though with a note of consideration Cal would have never thought Gabriel would be capable of.

"What _is _that?" Tanith demanded, sounding severely shaken. Cal managed to dryly note that most girls he knew would now be on the borders of hysteria, but Tanith merely sounded as if she'd just had a slight shock.

Tobias shook his head. "I don't –"

"It's the Dark Mark," Gabriel told them grimly. "You-Know-Who's sign. It would appear over the houses of families the Death Eaters had hit." He cast his eyes back at the crowds, who were even more frenzied at the sight of the Mark, even the masked wizards fleeing. "No wonder everyone's panicking."

"Yeah," Cal mumbled, his mouth tasting bitter. "I'd have thought you'd have read that in one of your books, Tobias." For some reason, it felt exceptionally good to make a dig at his friend that made things feel as if they bordered on normality.

Tobias threw him a dark look as they headed further into the depths of the small copse. They wouldn't get lost, but they'd probably be quite safe here. "Shut up," he mumbled, but there was no venom in his voice and Cal thought he'd gone fairly pale – though that could have just been the emerald light reflecting off his face. His expression was uncharacteristically grim, and there seemed to be no twinkle of anything – amusement, curiosity, enthusiasm, all the usual suspects – in his eyes. Tanith was standing a little closer to him than she usually would, looking sombre and – did he dare think it? – a little scared. Gabriel still had a solid grip on him, and was mumbling something quietly under his breath as Cal felt his knees shaking and silently hoped they wouldn't give way again.

He had never thought that he would see the Dark Mark except in a book, or hear of it from anything other than Will's recollections. He had never thought he would see the white masks of the Death Eaters ever again, or see their dark processions coming with malicious intent. But he had, and the implications were all too clear. He knew it would take much to see Tobias sickened and dead of all light of life. He had never thought anything would happen to scare Tanith and have her going to _anyone _for comfort and reassurance. He had never thought that Gabriel would even know what compassion or fear were. And he had never, ever thought that his legs would collapse from under him for anything of lesser importance than a Quidditch match.


	8. January 14th, 1996 – Sixth Year

**January 14th, 1996**** – Sixth Year**

Cal Brynmor idly wondered if he would have to kill himself before the day was out as he slowly slid into a seat at breakfast in the Great Hall. The room was abuzz with something, but he rather wished everyone would all go away and leave him alone. It was doubtless some pathetic little concern that wasn't really important, if one were to look beyond immediate concerns of school-life.

He wasn't in a bad mood, per se. He was just rather sick of the matter that left him wanting to kill himself. Or kill somebody else. In particular, the two other individuals who were sitting at the breakfast table, bickering like an old married couple.

Not that he'd point this out. No, Cal liked to keep his head intact, and insinuating that there was anything beyond the mere friendly between Tanith and Tobias, at this stage of existence, would have certainly brought around death and torment. Because, at that moment, their topic of argument was the same as it had always been: a certain dark-haired Gryffindor.

"I can spend my social time with whomever I wish to, Tanith, as you well know," Tobias was saying coolly, but with that air of anger bubbling below the surface he usually kept under control as he buttered his toast with a forced and rather false casual air.

"Well, that's true, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to criticise your decisions," Tanith replied coldly, with the perfectly calm appearance of somebody who was absolutely in the right, and in their discussions was doing little more than indulging a child throwing a tantrum.

"Oh, and you _will _criticise them, won't you! Because Tanith Cole always knows best on how to rule somebody else's life!" Tobias mumbled, sounding bitter.

"Not everyone else's. Just yours, right now, when you're being silly," she answered flatly.

See, that was the thing about their arguments. Their voices were never raised, but verbal daggers flew through the air enough to give Cal a headache. And he definitely didn't want to know what had triggered this new round of Tanith's criticism of Tobias' recent attachment to Annie MacKenzie. After all, the trigger could be something as straightforward as 'good morning', for her and her volatility.

"What makes you think you know what's best for me? In the current madness of inter-House war, don't you think it's pleasant that _some _people can look beyond the petty bickering and actually get to know each other when they wouldn't normally have the chance to?" Tobias was well and truly getting into a snit now.

"Oh, yes. You're a regular Romeo and Juliet," Cal mumbled under his breath.

They ignored him, fortuitously, as Tanith leaned towards Tobias a little. "Yes. I just think it's stupid. Believe it or not, this isn't fuelled by me just wanting to rip apart anything you have, it's more a concern that I'm not sure you and MacKenzie is the best decision you've ever made. You've made some bad ones, of course…"

"Yes, I remember one. You were one," Tobias replied, and Cal shrank back at the inevitable backlash this would bring.

It didn't come. Tanith merely fixed him with a look, her expression impassive for a moment – and that was as shocked as she would ever get. Cal knew that Tobias had crossed the line in that moment, but he didn't seem to notice, straightening up and fixing Tanith with a look. She seemed to have had all of the fight taken out of her by his words, and Cal continued to wonder why they were so dense on this topic.

"And you had no problems with it last week when we were in Hogsmeade. You didn't make any such comments," Tobias continued slowly.

"That's because I was tipsy, partying, and thought it was just a fling that wouldn't go much further than you pulling her a few times before good old inter-House conflict kicked in and stomped down on any actual emotions." Tanith paused, her eyes widening a little. "There _aren't _actual emotions involved, are there?"

"Well…" Tobias turned bright red at this. He could never, ever blush subtly, which was his curse – albeit a very amusing curse for Cal. "I don't know. I mean, I still don't know her very well. But we're having fun. That's all it is."

Tanith's eyes widened more. "Oh, God. You've fallen for her, haven't you?"

Cal was afraid she was going to have a fit then, and even though he didn't think she was necessarily right – from conversations with Tobias, it seemed his dalliance with Annie MacKenzie was nothing more than a bit of fun both of them were enjoying – that still wouldn't stop Tanith if she flipped out completely. If nothing else, MacKenzie might not survive the ensuing explosion.

He searched around for a distraction, and found it as Gabriel stepped in to the Great Hall, his newspaper under his arm. Cal waved at him madly, half-rising from his seat. "Gabe! Over here!" he called, grimacing. "Please, God, come over here," he added in a mumble to himself.

Gabriel never looked too cheerful in the morning-time. He didn't look cheerful a lot of the time, truth be told, but he rarely looked as grim and horrified as he did today, slouching across towards them from the main door. He sat down next to Cal without a word, and pulled his paper out.

"Read this," he said in a hollow voice, unfolding the day's copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and setting it down in the middle of the table.

Tanith sighed. "Doyle, I'm sure we have more important worries that whatever the bloody ministry's done now…"

But Cal wasn't paying any attention to her anymore as he grabbed the paper, his eyes wide, round and horrified as the pictures on the front of it leapt out at him – almost literally – and filling him with a cold, shaking fear that settled in his belly like ice.

For there, alongside a dozen other pictures of witches and wizards, was his father.

Thanatos Brynmor had been one of the strongest Death Eaters to serve Lord Voldemort in his reign of terror fifteen years ago. He and his wife, Nila, had been responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Muggles and had personally slain half a dozen Aurors, only stopped when a young Unspeakable named William Rayner had arrested Thanatos and killed Nila, taking in their young son Caldwyn and adopting him. Thanatos had been sent to Azkaban, where Cal had done a fine job of ignoring his existence. Will had never tried to deny Cal any knowledge of the truth, but still, all he knew of his father was from half-worn memories and aged photographs.

That was still enough to recognise the man's face on the front of the newspaper.

"Death Eaters… escape Azkaban?" Tobias said slowly, leaning across to read the paper upside-down falteringly. "After Black, is everybody doing it these days? Has it become some sort of fad? So much for a competent Ministry."

"Or competent Dementors. How… could this happen?" Tanith asked, sounding much more shocked than the dry Tobias. She seemed to be getting her head wrapped around the implications of this break-out faster, and all bickering about romantic liaisons with Gryffindors were forgotten.

"The end is coming," Gabriel said in a hollow voice, and in an instant, Cal was reminded of that night of the Quidditch World Cup, hidden in the woodlands, where Gabriel had been the only other one of them to vaguely comprehend the implications of the Dark Mark in the sky. "Maybe, you know… mad Potter's right. Maybe You-Know-Who _is _back. I mean, it would take something like _him _to get a mass break-out from Azkaban, not just the one escaped convict…" His eyes were empty, and he sounded like he might be sick.

Cal felt about the same, but, inexplicably, when he raised his head to look at Tobias and Tanith, he had managed to paste a smile across his face. "Well. I suppose that saves me a lot of trouble of trying to keep my father's real fate a secret from everyone, doesn't it? After all, it's there, in black and white. _Thanatos Brynmor_. People would have to be pretty thick not to make the connection, wouldn't they." His voice had a horrible, heavy and false cheer that he thought might rip them apart.

Tanith was looking sympathetic – horribly, horribly sympathetic, as he didn't want her pity, but Tobias just looked blank with shock at the reality of this sinking in. They'd known, of course; had known since the summer of their first year, once they'd begun asking questions and he'd trusted them enough to tell them the truth. But here it was, as he said, in black and white. Hard to miss.

Tobias drew himself up to his full, not inconsiderable height. "Any of them worth a damn won't let it affect them… beyond the initial shock," he conceded, but with a certain haughty tone to his voice. "You know that. You're more than that – you _know _you're more than that."

"Do they know that?" Cal asked, the humour draining from his eyes, and all his friends could do was look away and eat breakfast in silence. Suddenly, the grim atmosphere in the Great Hall made sense in ways he hadn't considered when he'd first stepped in.

"We'd better get going to Transfiguration," Gabriel said at last, leaving the paper on the table as he stood. He hadn't touched any food, but Cal hardly noticed this when, almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the copy of the _Daily Prophet _and shoved it into his bag. He'd read it later. There was some scary fascination that it held for him he wasn't sure he could just dismiss.

"Oh, good. A lesson with the Gryffindors. Maybe they'll try to burn me on the stake," Cal mumbled, tossing his bag over his shoulder and wearily standing to follow Gabriel. Behind him came Tobias and Tanith, clearly far less enthusiastic in their bickering but clearly not done with the concerns at hand.

It was now, he had to admit, faintly reassuring to hear them go on about the same thing they'd been whinging about before they heard the news. Because now… now Cal knew what was going on, now he knew that his father was free and dangerous, he wanted nothing more than to focus on something normal. His two friends arguing was _definitely _normal.

But when they meandered down the corridors, finally reaching the door of the Transfiguration classroom, last of the groups to arrive to wait in the corridor, it was clear that normality had disappeared. Eyes were on him – eyes of Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, all with different emotions and thoughts hidden behind the quiet stares but focused, unmoving nevertheless.

The silence was tense, and had clearly been tense even before the four of them had arrived. Andy Harding's gaze was angry and venomous, but Miles Bletchley's retaliating glower was equally forceful. Cal felt himself stumble a little as the Slytherin Keeper gave him a hefty slap on the back, an obvious sign of solidarity, and didn't know if he should feel encouraged or pitied.

Harding's gaze pulled away from Bletchley finally as Cal moved to lounge against the wall next to Gabriel casually. It didn't take long before Cal felt the Gryffindor's eyes on him, accusing and piercing. He did his best not to return the gaze. He wasn't sure he could shoulder it.

"You know, Brynmor," Harding started, but was mercifully cut off by the arrival of Professor McGonagall, storming down the corridor towards the classroom, seeming taut and yet very much aware of what was going on. She fixed them all with her _own _stare, which was enough to disperse the animosity, for now, and as one the Gryffindors and Slytherins trooped into her classroom without saying a word.

§

"…and I will be expecting to see two feet of parchment on your considerations of the best way to Transfigure inanimate objects into living creatures on a _temporary _basis. That will be for Friday's lesson, without fail. I will not accept Quidditch practice as an excuse from Mister Montague, Mister Bletchley, or Mister Pucey. No, nor you, Miss Bell. My lessons are more important than the Quidditch Cup, and I will say that even to my own Gryffindors."

Tobias stood up slowly as McGonagall instructed them on the essay that he knew would haunt the rest of the days of the week. That was, if he couldn't find something else to haunt him, and considering recent events, that would be quite unlikely. Tobias was quite used to juggling various work assignments, and in six years had become, if he might say so himself, damned good at it. But finding the fine line between personal worries and homework was becoming increasingly difficult as the personal worries evolved beyond what he'd do at Hogsmeade over the weekend.

"Say what you might about McGonagall," Tanith hissed in his ear as she also stood up, "but she's quite nasty to _everyone _when she wants to be. Even Snape shows favouritism." It was the most they'd spoken to each other all morning. That was a curse of the NEWTs – fewer lessons, and thus much longer blocks of time for their classes. A short break, but on the whole, the morning lesson would consume them until lunchtime.

"And you _know _that Potions this afternoon is going to be a barrel of laughs," Tobias replied dully. He'd had all the fight taken out of him with all morning to consider the implications of the _Daily Prophet_'s article, and the increasingly dour state of Cal.

"At least it's with the Ravenclaws. Not the Gryffindors again, or Hufflepuffs. I won't say anything about your girlfriend right now, Grey, because I'm sick of bickering with you, but don't expect me to get friendly with the lions if they're going to keep acting the way they have for the last two hours," Tanith told him, with no uncertainty in her voice.

Tobias couldn't help but make a noise of acknowledgement, and was certainly not going to dispute her point as they walked out of the classroom. It wasn't as if he was finding the Gryffindors to be any more tolerable than she was. Not if they were going to let stupid biases affect them and torment his friends.

Cal and Gabriel were standing just outside, as was almost everyone else, talking quietly. Tobias knew there were some matters regarding which Gabriel Doyle had a much better comprehension of things than he himself did, and Death Eaters was one of them. Tobias didn't want to know _why _– but a part of him did wish he could be of more use to Cal than just giving moral support.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, though, when Nick Wilson's voice filtered across the hubbub of the Slytherins and Gryffindors talking amongst themselves. Somehow, no matter how many people were talking, a challenge would never go unheard.

"…interesting day we've been having, though, and nobody can disagree with that." Wilson finally tore his conversation away from Harding and Percival Anderson, and turned to face the whole body of students lurking about the corridors, his gaze at last settling upon Cal. "Isn't that right, Brynmor?"

Cal froze in his conversation with Gabriel, and slowly glanced over at Wilson. "I suppose," he said blankly, blandly, before carrying on talking. Tobias didn't need to know his friend as well as he did to notice the conversation was forced, meandering, and without focus. From where he was standing it would be hard to go and join in, but he did note how Gabriel was also trying to act like nothing was wrong. Doyle was definitely often underestimated as a friend.

"'I suppose'?" Harding echoed, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "You know, I figured a slightly more enthusiastic reaction from you! Isn't it a day of great celebration for all the snakes in general, and you in particular?"

Now, any general discussion had faded completely, and the lines of conflict had been drawn as the Slytherins and Gryffindors stood – unconsciously almost shoulder to shoulder – and faced each other.

"What's that supposed to mean, Harding?" Tobias found himself saying, the words escaping automatically.

It was Anderson, whom Tobias had always thought to be a rather reasonable bloke until now, who answered with a smirk. "I thought that was quite obvious, Grey? I mean, Death Eaters escape, and now all your parents or buddies of your parents are back in action!"

Bletchley shrugged. "My parents never had anything to do with Death Eaters. Why should I be cheering?"

Tobias, again, found himself bristling as he glowered at Harding. "My father was killed by a Death Eater. I'm assuming that you're not implying that I'm in the least bit _cheerful _that there's been this breakout?" His voice was low, and dangerous, and with a similar lack of anger to his argument with Tanith this morning – only he would never quite sound this venomous towards Tanith.

"Maybe not _you _cheering, but definitely Brynmor there," Diana Sawyer spoke up, with her own trace of hostility.

Cal looked faintly sick, and tired, but still met all of their gazes resolutely. "As you can see, I'm not cheering. I know that Gryffindors aren't exactly renown for their amazing cognitive abilities, but perhaps you ought to put those brains swollen with pride to use and try to work out just why I'm not jumping for joy over my father, a Death Eater, having escaped?"

There was a rumbling of hostility across the Gryffindors, and Tobias couldn't work out why they were all… like this. Why nobody had told the idiots to back off, lose their prejudices, and just move along. Tom Everard, supposed Prefect, was lurking at the back, along with Riley, neither of them making any effort to intervene. Even Annie had her eyes downcast, just trying to pretend to be somewhere else.

Why the hell weren't they stopping the complete wankers amongst their housemates from being suck utter idiots?

_When was the last time you stopped Montague from baiting a Muggle-born Gryffindor?_

The thought was sudden, treacherous, and completely true. Tobias felt a little sick. The tables had turned, at last, and it was getting ugly.

"…you know, Brynmor, we thought you were half-decent," Percival Anderson was saying, once Tobias tuned back into the conversation. "But it seems that you're a snake to the core, and thus just as terrible as we figured."

"And it seems you're a complete pillock, Anderson, and need to shut your damned mouth this bloody second," Tanith spat back, taking a step forward. Tobias reached out to lightly place a calming hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off lightly. No, she wasn't in a blind fury. This was a calculated retaliation.

"Who's going to make me? Is Brynmor going to try out some Unforgivables he learnt from his dad?" Anderson managed to make a chuckle mix with a sneer as he gave Tanith a derisive look.

"Well, we are prefects, and we're going to do what we can to try and keep the peace here." Tobias took a step forward to stand next to her, giving Everard and Riley glares. They had the good grace to look sheepish. "So I suggest that you stand down now, apologise for your biased suggestions, and move along?"

"Oh, you're standing with the Junior Death Eater now, Grey?" Wilson asked wryly.

"Yes, I bloody well am!" Tobias snapped, whirling around to face him. "Because he's my friend, because I don't give a damn _who _his father is, and because he's worth bloody ten of you, you arrogant, self-righteous, judgemental Gryffindor bastard!"

Harding let out a quick bark of laughter. "You know, Grey, I think your dead father might be pretty upset if he knew his son was siding with the kid of someone from the group of people who murdered him."

Tobias' self-control, which had been tenuous until then, slipped completely, and there was a flash of red in front of his eyes. The next thing he knew he had Harding pinned against the wall, his wand pointed at the Gryffindor's chin. "Don't you _ever _insinuate what my father would or would not think, or _ever _try to use him as a tool in your prejudices, Harding, or I swear to God I will hex you six ways to Sunday."

His voice still held that quiet harshness, but now it was shaking with the anger, the effort of _not _letting his temper get the better of him, and the bubbling emotions eating away inside him that moment. It was only when a gentle hand was lain on his forearm that he managed to fight the anger away enough to be completely aware of what he was doing.

"Toby…"

It wasn't Tanith, as he'd figured, trying to stop him from losing his prefect's badge. It was Annie, and the fact that she was trying to stop him from hexing Harding didn't really help his mood.

He did pull away, shoving his wand back up his sleeve, only to fix her with a glare that held his anger. "You're not bloody well siding with _him_, are you?" he hissed, feeling furious and betrayed all at once.

"I will if you hex him!" Annie retorted. "You're acting like a little child!"

"I'm acting…?" Tobias took a step back, rolling his eyes, then raised his voice so as to address everyone else as well. "I'm not the one who seems to think that having a father who was a Death Eater, even if you _never met him_ and were raised by the man who _arrested him_ makes you a Death Eater yourself!" He knew he was giving away pieces of Cal's past that Cal might not have necessarily appreciated, but he needed _some _fuel to his argument.

"Tobias? Don't bother." This _was _Cal, this time, still standing beside Gabriel and looking rather quiet. "They're just proving themselves to be the hypocrites we've always known they are." He found his own sneer as he gave them glares. "So much for 'Gryffindor nobility'."

Wilson took a step forward. "Just trying to keep the school aware of the danger of the snakes. Come on, we all know that the majority of the Death Eaters were from Slytherin house. Right now, it's best to try and pinpoint which of you is most likely to get recruited. Obviously, Brynmor's high on the list, but with your morals, Grey, you might not be far behind."

Again, no support from Annie, which didn't surprise Tobias too much. Tanith stepped forward, though. "What, and no Gryffindors fell to the Dark Arts?" She pulled out her own copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and gestured to the picture of a tall, willowy man with dark, receding hair. "I think Idaeus Robb would have something to say about that. Not to mention the great Sirius Black himself!"

"I said majority," Wilson retorted, though there was less bite to his anger than a moment before.

"So? I still think we should watch you. After all, you're rather known for inventive and cruel 'punishments' for those who have annoyed you in the past, Wilson. I remember what you did to those Hufflepuffs last year. Again, I say 'so much for Gryffindor nobility'. It seems to be a fable which you just like to flash around. Maybe _you're _the Death-Eater-in-training?" Tanith smirked at him.

"And I think _you _need to stop trying to pretend that you haven't got some bloody corrupt friends and are just as likely to end up that way yourself. It wouldn't be too surprising if Azkaban already had a cell lined up for you, you little snake…"

"Hey!" Tobias took a step forward, cutting off Wilson's tirade. "This is someone who's studying to become an Auror. What are _you _doing about this incoming tide of Death Eaters? Making accusations against a bunch of Slytherins because you're incapable of using your brain?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "The fact remains that bloody Brynmor here's the spawn of a Death Eater. That might as well mean that evil's pasted all over him!"

Tobias turned to face Cal at this final accusation, but he wasn't to be seen. Gabriel was standing there, glowering viciously at the Gryffindors, but there was no sign of their friend. Tobias wondered how much of this rubbish he'd suffered before he'd decided to leave it all behind.

§

"You missed Potions. Snape isn't too happy," Gabriel said coolly as he walked through the grass towards where Cal was perched on a tree stump, gazing across the lake mutely. "I think you'll need to go and explain to him."

"Explain what? I was sulking, so didn't go to lesson?" Cal shrugged, not tearing his gaze away and resolutely not looking at his friend. "I'll just take the detention, and suffer all he has to throw at me anyway."

"Snape has a lot to throw," Gabriel pointed out, moving to perch on the broad tree stump next to him. "You might need to do some dodging."

"I doubt he has more than the Gryffindors had. And I dodged that okay, didn't I?" Cal's voice was empty, horribly empty, and Gabriel wondered if he'd done the right thing in coming out to find him. Maybe he wanted to be more alone.

"Yeah. You dodged it all the way out here. And dodged dinner and lunch, too, while you were about it." Gabriel lifted the folded napkin he'd carried out here, and passed it to him. "Food in there. Sandwiches, mostly. I couldn't smuggle anything else out."

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," Cal mumbled, just sitting the napkin on his knee. "Or I would have gone for food; I'm not that damned moping and dense. I just… I'm good here. You don't need to worry about me."

"Is that you saying that you won't mind if I go, or that you want me to go? Because I don't have anything important to do, other than sit around and make sure my friend isn't on a self-destruct course," Gabriel told him with absolute certainty.

"No, you can… if you don't have anything better to do," Cal mumbled, and did unwrap the napkin of food. He lifted one of the sandwiches and took a bite, but seemed to be unaware of what he was doing, taking no relish in the eating when he had to be starving.

"Caldwyn, do _not _go all self-deprecating on me. It gets annoying, and simply delays the inevitability of the fact that I'm going to sit here with you, my friend. Do _not _play the poor, maligned, worthless little wizard with me," Gabriel reprimanded him, tapping one foot against the ground.

Cal paused, then looked over at him as he swallowed another bite of the sandwich, his expression quizzical. "Gabe? Why are you always the only one to call me Caldwyn? I mean, well, some others who don't really know me call me Caldwyn, but I don't particularly like it, and everyone else calls me Cal…"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know. I just always did. Nicknames are one thing; shortening a good name because it can be cumbersome is annoying. Sure, when you're _eleven_, but we're out of this school next year…"

"So that means you find it annoying when we call you Gabe?" Cal asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shifted. "No, not really. That's just you being lazy." Gabriel paused, scratching his chin. "It doesn't mean you find it annoying when _I _call you Caldwyn, if it bothers you coming from everyone else? Because that's not really my intention."

"No. Others, yes. You, no. Not sure why." Cal shifted a little, then focused intently on his sandwiches suddenly. "Nobody else could be bothered to come down and hunt for me?" he asked at last.

"Oh, so you _did _want attention!" Gabriel exclaimed, widening his eyes at him.

Cal shook his head. "No, I just meant… I expected somebody to show. I just figured it would be all of you, rather than you coming along solo."

Gabriel shrugged again. "Tanith and Tobias were locked in an argument and I thought it would be a good time to try and slip out. They're just beginning to annoy me with this stupid bickering. Yes, Tobias goes out and snogs MacKenzie. Tanith just needs to accept this." He sighed heavily.

"Tell me about it." Cal passed him a sandwich, which Gabriel accepted and began to eat. "Though I reckon Tanith has some new ammunition to use on Tobias, what with the little display from the Gryffindors this lunchtime."

"Oh, yes." Gabriel nodded firmly. "And she's using it. Not that she doesn't have a point. They were seriously out of order saying what they did. I don't know if we have dumber Gryffindors in our year, or what…"

"Nope, they're all just as damned bad. It's been alright the last few terms… I think we might have had better relations than other years – you know, once our little war with Harding and Wilson ended in the second year. But matters are disintegrating all over the school." Cal made a face, picking at the next sandwich. "That's a function of what's going on outside, and what's happening here with Umbridge."

"The world's turning against the Slytherins. Despite what Bletchley said this lunchtime, I think he's loving it. He was chatting with Warrington and some of the others in the common room when I left. I think they might be planning something… returning back to the old ways of tripping Muggle-borns in the corridors, and what have you," Gabriel warned.

"They're idiots, and they're just symptoms of the problem. I think the problem itself is linked to what happened today." Cal raised his head to stare across the lake, his eyes slightly out of focus. "You know I've never particularly liked Harding, but I never thought he'd be quite as vindictive as he was earlier."

"Oh, ignore them. They're Gryffindor idiots. Anyone who knows you can't possibly suggest you're a Death Eater in Training. There's nobody in the house who's more likely to give Malfoy a thump when he makes anti-Muggle-born comments. Harding's a pureblood and doesn't quite hide the fact that he's proud of it; _he _has more chance of becoming a Death Eater than you."

Cal snorted. "So? The majority of the people out there who will be making judgements that will affect my life _won't _know me. They'll see the fact that Thanatos Brynmor, renowned Death Eater… is my father, and judge me on that. I've had to live with it for seventeen years; I'm _quite _used to it, but I would also rather avoid it."

"Then you ignore those bastards! _You're _the only one that matters." Gabriel gave him a light, playful punch on the shoulder. "It's not as if you're alone in having a convoluted history. We're the generation born during the last war. Things get complicated. The majority of people – those you'd actually want to bother knowing – will be smart and see you as who you are, not who you _might _be."

Cal scrubbed his face with his hands, still staring ahead. "Gabriel… of everyone, you're the one who places the most emphasis on blood. Tobias is a half-blood, he doesn't care. Tanith has had a change in priorities. _You're _the one who thinks that who your relations are has an affect on who and what you are in the wizarding world."

"Yes… look, Caldwyn, I'm not about to go and collar a first-year Muggle-born Hufflepuff and call them a Mudblood! Times change, people change. Just because I _would _rather Muggle-born students weren't at Hogwarts, weren't in the wizarding world doesn't mean I conscribe to You-Know-Who's views and want them all _dead_. There's a _long _way to go before I get there," Gabriel said in a rush, looking at his friend with faint concern.

"That's not what I mean." Cal glanced over at him. "If blood dictates who and what we are, then shouldn't I have 'tainted' blood?" A slight sneer tugged at his lips. "If having pureblood parents makes you a better witch or wizard by default, then why is Tobias the half-blood the best student in our year, maybe in the whole damned school? If blood _really _has such a sway on who and what we are, then why aren't I running around with the escaped Death Eaters learning Unforgivables this very second?"

Gabriel stared at him, completely taken aback, and could only splutter for a few seconds.

"Exactly. It makes no sense." Cal stood up, throwing the remnants of his last sandwich into the lake. "You've always thought that I didn't give a damn about blood because giving a damn would force me to condemn my foster-father – no, wait, he's my father; again, I don't care about blood, and it doesn't matter who sired me, just who raised me. The fact remains, though, that I sort of _have _to not care about blood." He turned to face Gabriel, his eyes glittering. "Otherwise I have to believe that my blood taints me, corrupts me, and dooms me to the darker side of magic."

"That's preposterous. You are who you are, and you'll make your own lot out of your life. Thanatos Brynmor has no more bearing on your life than any other one of those Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban," Gabriel declared with certainty.

Cal paused, nodding, then turned to face his friend. "Then why do those who champion the cause of Muggle-borns and say blood doesn't matter decide that _my _heritage condemns me? And why do you, who says that blood affects our wizarding nature, _not _condemn me? We're picking and choosing here, and there's no 'right' side until we work on principle, not preference."

Gabriel stared at him, blinking for a few long moments, then stood up. "Let's get back. Maybe Tanith will have killed Tobias, and his Gryffind-whore will have made the lions rise up for vengeance. We might not even have to worry about this."

Cal gazed over at the lake for a few more seconds, then nodded slightly and moved to walk alongside Gabriel. "You know, once Tobias is finished with Harding, he'll hex _you _six ways to Sunday if he knows you called MacKenzie a whore. And I won't stop him."

"Well, let him. I'm not exactly feeling very Gryffindor-friendly right now. Ask me again later, when MacKenzie actually sticks her neck out and faces her dumb housemates," Gabriel growled.

"Like we do all the time when Montague's taunting Muggle-borns," Cal pointed out sarcastically.

"Yes. That's right," Gabriel declared, ignoring Cal's thoughtful expression. "It's the way of things. It's why Tobias and MacKenzie together is a bad idea."

Cal sighed. "And it's not going to change."


	9. March 16th, 1992 – Second Year

**March 16th, 1992**** – Second Year**

Gabriel Doyle bent over the broad table in the Great Hall as he furtively scribbled away at his Potions essay, due in that afternoon. The first year at Hogwarts had been comparatively light on work, allowing them all to adapt to a new system, and a new way of doing things. The moment September of Year Two arrived, there were essays galore, and they'd all been forced to suddenly learn how to _work_. Although Professor Snape, their Potions teacher _and _head of their house, was happy to let them do serious practical work with their cauldrons, he seemed intent on making sure they knew their wormwood from their wolfsbane at the same time. And Gabriel had rather failed to write the essay on it, which was why lunch was now consisting of a frantic nibbling as he wrote.

It was said that Snape favoured Slytherin house, and he did. He wouldn't deduct points from Slytherin if Gabriel didn't hand in his homework – not, Gabriel sniggered, like he would if a Gryffindor didn't – but he _would _be very annoyed. He'd probably just fix him with _that _look, the one which made him know he'd let him and the house down, and in some ways that was worse. Gabriel had nothing but the most immense respect for Professor Snape, and he didn't want to disappoint him.

But at the same time, he'd really not wanted to get this Potions essay done. He was a good six inches short of his target, and only had fifteen minutes. The parchment was taking over all of his eating room, and the text book in front of him was already invading the space of the third-year girl who'd sat opposite him. She'd glared a few times, but Gabriel didn't actually care enough about her inconvenience to move or even apologise. _She _had sat there when he had obviously claimed this spot – so she could either live with it or shift.

A gale of laughter from the main doors made Gabriel lift his head, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. Though it seemed as if most of the Slytherins kept their hair under control – girls like Tanith Cole had it tied back, obsessively neat gimps like Tobias Grey arranged each hair carefully, and thugs like Caldwyn - (no, no, he couldn't even pronounce the Welsh name)… like Cal kept it bristly short – Gabriel was something of an exception. It wasn't too long, just dangling in his eyes and lying a little longer on his neck than was usual, and he _liked _it that way.

But what had caught his attention were two boys, their destination quite obviously the Gryffindor table at the far end of the Hall. In the time sharing Potions classes with them, plus just keeping his ear to the ground, Gabriel knew exactly who they were. Andy Harding and that Mudblood Nick Wilson – who were the _worst _of the damned self-righteous house.

Although he knew he should really get back to his Potions essay, Gabriel couldn't resist grabbing the end piece of a sliced baguette and lobbing it at them. His aim was true – Wilson was struck on the back of the head.

Most boys would then have returned to their essay and played innocent, knowing that nobody would doubt their responsibility in the matter. Gabriel, however, didn't. As Wilson and Harding whirled around in the direction the bread slice had come from, Gabriel raised a hand and waved cheerily and casually at them before lowering his head and unconcernedly carrying on with his essay.

He wasn't worried. He could easily tell that they were currently debating whether or not to head over and start a scene, but Gabriel knew full well that they wouldn't. They would most certainly swear to get their own back, of that he was certain, and the fact that they had Potions next filled Gabriel with delight. The Gryffindors were easily stupid enough to pick a fight under Snape's nose, and Gabriel only ever regretted the fact that he didn't have a camera to picture the exact moment of their downfall _every single time _they brought detention upon themselves.

Gabriel wasn't exactly sure where the animosity between he, his friends, and the Gryffindors had sprung up. A big part of it would be the automatic butting of heads between Slytherin and their 'chivalrous and brave' counterparts, as he hadn't yet picked a fight with any Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, but some of it had to be personal. They were so… well… arrogant. It was as if they knew full well that the Hogwarts headmaster had been a Gryffindor and somehow paraded this fact. It was as if they were utterly convinced that they were the saviours of wizard kind. And it was also the fact that they seemed automatically convinced that all Slytherins were the scum of the Earth.

Gabriel was mildly aware that he was merely fuelling their prejudices, but he didn't care. He himself knew he was full of prejudice against Gryffindors, and liked it that way. He didn't want to _correct _them. He just wanted to torment them. And Cal, Grey and Tanith seemed quite happy to join him in that.

It wasn't like what Montague, Pucey and Bletchley did in their near-reign of terror. They would pick on anyone randomly for anything, as if demonstrating this 'superiority' Caspian Warrington often ranted on about to anyone that would listen. No, this wasn't being petty for the sake of it. This just happened to be war against a certain group. They could have easily been Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws – or, hell, even Slytherins themselves. It was personal. Just the fact that they were in opposing houses… helped.

Gabriel did sometimes despair of his allies, however. In Potions, when paired with Richard Keating, another Gryffindor Mudblood, Tobias had been quite polite and cheerful to him. It wasn't a _friendship_, just a mere acquaintance. But it was damned odd when they would roll their eyes at each other whenever Gabriel and Wilson leapt into verbal combat. Especially as, if Wilson said a wrong word or Andy Harding interjected, Tobias would instantly be at Gabriel's side and join the open conflict.

Cal was, in ways, even queerer. Gabriel had seen the Welshman reduce Muggle-born Gryffindor Anne MacKenzie to tears in Potions with a few well-placed words, then not an hour later help her pick up her books when she'd been crashed into in the corridor by some over-enthusiastic Hufflepuffs. Okay, so MacKenzie had slapped him around the face afterwards, but it was still very weird. Especially when Caldwyn had later insisted in the Common Room that he had merely badly expressed himself to MacKenzie in the first place, and mumbled that he wasn't very good with words. Gabriel doubted this – Cal had shown that he knew exactly how to hit where it hurt when he'd almost come to blows with a Ravenclaw in Herbology, and Gabriel was very sceptical of the idea that the Welshman didn't know what he was saying.

Tanith was great, mind. She was every bit as biased as Gabriel was towards the Gryffindors – every single last one of them. She'd kicked the books MacKenzie had dropped, brought Harding's manliness into question in a bickering last Tuesday, and was quick to drag Tobias out of any polite-seeming conversations with Richard Keating in Potions.

More voices drifting from the main door – friendlier and more welcome, this time – prompted Gabriel out of his reverie, and he scribbled a quick conclusion in large handwriting to make up the final two inches he had been a little short on. It wouldn't be his greatest work, but it'd do. As long as he gave something in, Snape was unlikely to give him 'the look'.

Tanith Cole glared at the third-year who was seated opposite Gabriel until the other girl eventually gave up and headed off. Tanith took her seat and unceremoniously shoved Doyle's text book back towards him as she grabbed a steak-laden plate. Tobias and Cal sat down also, the former picking up Gabriel's essay without a word and scanning it quickly.

"Don't get grease over it," Gabriel mumbled. Although he and Tobias had started off a little roughly – Tobias had disliked Gabriel's devil-may-care attitude and Gabriel had been irritated by the stick Tobias seemed to have up his arse – there seemed to be an unspoken accord between them. That didn't mean they didn't occasionally bash heads.

Tobias ignored him, still reading through the essay as he chewed on a slice of bread. "You only put one 's' in 'dissolved'. There are two," he declared at last, then grabbed Gabriel's self-inking quill and corrected it.

This was typical of Tobias Grey. He would snatch people's essays without asking, lean over shoulders as they were writing, and interrupt discussions to address spelling and grammatical errors… but heaven forbid if someone wanted help with the actual substance of an essay. If lucky, they could get him on an aspect of the subject which interested him and try to subtly take notes as he rambled on, but that was only in special situations. Fortunately, Tobias was somehow the only person who didn't find History of Magic to be the dullest thing on Earth, and so was a perfect replacement for Binns in note-taking; nobody paid attention to the ghost in lesson, but an enthused Tobias could actually make the facts sound interesting. He was like their own little revision book.

"I don't care. I just needed to get it done," Gabriel sneered, shaking his head as he took it back and rolled it up firmly. "I know, you probably got it done the day we were given it and have been driving _him _–" he pointed at Cal, "crazy with correcting his grammar since, but some of us aren't that quick."

Cal snorted loudly. "Leave it out, Gabe. Didn't you hear him up last night scribbling away like an idiot? He's been procrastinating all week."

Gabriel gave Tobias a smug look. "Plonker," he declared at last, not in the least bit surprised that he was being hypocritical. Not only was the fact that Tobias was the laziest sod on Earth hard to get his head around, Gabriel also slept like the dead and was oblivious to the world around him once in bed.

Tanith leant over, skewering a chunk of meat from the cut up steak. "You lot ready for Potions this afternoon, homework aside?" she asked casually, and although her expression and voice were clear, a subtle glance over the shoulder clearly told what she was referring to.

Gabriel chuckled dryly. "Oh yes. I threw a bit of bread at them. I think that irritated Wilson. They're bound to try something."

Tobias smiled a feral grin. "So do we deal with it ourselves or just let them trip over their own feet in front of Snape?"

"No, let's just try to delay them from retaliation this afternoon," Cal insisted briskly, then shrugged as all eyes turned towards him, confused. "They get the bloody moral high ground whenever anything happens in Potions. They don't get humiliated, they just get angry because they think we're hiding behind Snape."

Tobias blinked. "No shame in using the utilities you've got at hand. Besides, let them keep the moral high ground. It just makes it even funnier when they get all outraged. Keating's told me quite a few times how they rant and rave in the common room."

"They do know that they don't irritate us half as much as we irritate them, right?" Tanith asked with a smirk.

"I think so," Cal mused. "That just seems to irritate them more." He shook his head. "But I just want to get them on level ground. I want to get them back for Friday." He paused, scratching at his neck. Last week, after upending Harding's cauldron in Potions, he'd seen himself hexed at the end of the lesson. The boils had been quickly removed by Madam Pomfrey, and Harding and Wilson given detentions, but the fact was, the Slytherins had failed to give retribution. They'd got away with it.

Gabriel shrugged. "I'm sure we can do something. Let them trip over themselves in Potions, then, and we'll deal with them later." He took another bite from a pork pie. "So, we're going to the match on Saturday?" he asked at last, referring to the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch game.

This was unspoken agreement that conversation about the Gryffindor duo would be knocked aside. They had far more interesting things to consider. Bickering between Quidditch captain Marcus Flint and the Seeker Terence Higgs were very entertaining for those who kept their ears close to the ground – and whilst Cal and Tobias were more likely to be having a game of Gobstones in the common room, Gabriel and Tanith kept their ears to the ground.

"Of course. Snakes are go!" Cal, Beater for the Slytherin Team, declared cheerfully as Tobias merely groaned and Tanith smirked, albeit a little reluctantly.

"I never will understand all the excitement surrounding a bunch of idiots flying around on broomsticks and trying to throw a ball through a hoop. The game's just for… well… idiots," he said, shaking his head.

"Hey!" Cal glowered, kicking Tobias' shins lightly. "This is my first game! Don't you want to see me play?"

Tobias raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Tanith and Gabriel conspiratorially. "I rest my case."

Tanith swatted at his arm lightly. "Play nice, Grey. Quidditch is worthwhile. Besides, it's fun to watch," she pointed out, shrugging. "And we may get to see Gryffindor get pounded into the dirt."

Gabriel smirked. "Depends on whether or not Flint's whipped them into shape enough. Higgs seemed to have a few choice words to say about the line-up for Saturday… doesn't seem to think Montague's good enough."

"Oh, from the thousand and one practices, it's been made quite clear that Higgs has issues with being passed up for captain. Thing is, Flint has three more seasons in him, and Higgs only has one. It makes more sense this way," Cal mused, scratching his neck again. He'd been doing that on and off since Friday, and it was beginning to annoy everyone else.

"Right, so Higgs has issues and Flint is a prat. Didn't we already know all this?" Tobias asked, smirking vaguely and very hopefully… and in vain. "You'd have thought they'd have been a bit more secretive, too. I mean, anyone could eavesdrop on their tactics at this rate."

"Yes, because they talk about it loudly… in the Slytherin common room. Know any Slytherins who are liable to spill the beans?" Gabriel pointed out, a little haughtily. He and Tobias exchanged a glare for a minute before Doyle decided to smooth that bit over a touch. "Besides, you know those two. Flint probably thinks that 'subtle' is a herb, and Higgs has no reason to worry about Flint's captaincy being undermined."

Tobias rolled his eyes, then rubbed them wearily. "What a tangled web Slytherin house weaves…"

§

Tanith did her best to keep alert as she cautiously measured the amount of asphodel she was preparing to tip into the cauldron she and Doyle were sharing. She could _hear _snickering over her shoulder from further back where Andy Harding and Nick Wilson were working discreetly, and knew that, as a part of the Slytherin group that had declared war on them _and _the current partner of He Who Had Graced Them With Bread, she wouldn't be even slightly safe from any retaliation that awaited them. Or maybe they'd get Grey and Cal.

She leant forwards slightly to eye the tall, lanky blonde boy and his shorter, more solidly built partner as they bickered quietly over their potion. Snape had charged them with making a sleeping draught, and any he deemed to be sub-par would doubtless be tested on its creator. Of course, generally only Gryffindors had to worry about this, but Tanith was well aware that any atrocious efforts from a Slytherin would not be casually received.

"They're going to do something," she hissed in Doyle's ear, knowing that he wouldn't bat an eyelid. He never did. Tanith prided herself on being confident and in control of any situation that was thrown at her, but never before had she been confronted with someone as insipidly _worry-free _as Gabriel Doyle. It was as if all concerns which bothered others would never affect him, so he didn't need to get bothered by them. And even those things which would involve him were treated as mere… hiccups in life. It was almost annoying, actually. She envied him extremely – whilst she knew she could meet most things and not bat an eyelid, he didn't seem to actually put any effort into it.

If, two years ago, she had been asked what sort of friends she would like to fall in with at Hogwarts, it wouldn't have been these three. Even at the tender age of eleven, Tanith had known the importance of making the right friends. She suspected this had more than a little to do with her networking father, who would make any connection, no matter how wrong or dodgy, if it would further himself. Of course, he'd never get involved in anything dodgy himself, but as far as he was concerned, influence and morals were quite separate. It was a mildly delusional way of going about things, but it had suited the Cole family for many years, and Tanith had been brought up believing this.

It wasn't that she'd come to Hogwarts and had expected to make friends with someone who would be the future Minister of Magic, or something that ridiculous. No, just she knew that Daedalus Cole would be fully expecting his daughter to come back with a list of people she had just encountered at school who he could add to the contact list.

Apart from Gabriel Doyle, eldest son of the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry, she had rather failed. Oh, she wasn't going to _dwell _on it – her father would hardly criticise her for not making the right friends; he'd probably just sulk and go back to one of those peculiar hobbies (apart from the contacts-list) that dogged him from time to time. Just before she'd left, he'd been trying to play the Muggle violin, which was a very odd past-time for proudly wizardly Daedalus Cole to choose. He said he just liked the sound, something Tanith doubted very much indeed, as he'd always thrown boots at cats outside when they'd insisted on making a similar noise in the middle of the night.

To be fair, it wasn't as bad as it seemed with her friends. Oh, Cal was of no use to man nor beast unless he made something of himself (and, as a Slytherin, anything was possible). But Grey… His mother had been born to the Collins family, who weren't complete mugs in the wizarding world. She knew absolutely nothing about Grey's father's family, so Melissa Collins must have married lower than her station. It wasn't a hanging offence, merely irritating.

Grey had teased her relentlessly about this almost desire to know the right people, and she supposed she deserved it. Again, her father wouldn't say anything if she didn't make contacts, nor had he said anything in the first place, but she desperately wanted to do something for him. Daedalus Cole was, she knew, a good man – or at least she believed it, in the way all little girls will think the world of their father if he treats them as if they are the most important thing in the world to them.

They were an odd group, the three of them. Cal and Grey had developed a certain amount of closeness, but there were always going to be slightly too broad differences in character for them to become best pals, Tanith was sure. Grey's subtle, deprecating sense of humour and Cal's more boisterous nature would surely be in conflict. Tanith found that, in ways, she bridged the gap between them. She could be as dry and subtle as Grey, but her outspoken attitude and absolute refusal to take nonsense from anyone connected her to Cal quite well. They were a team.

With Doyle tagging on at the back. Now _he _was a boy who set her nerves on edge. He seemed far older than his thirteen years, was excessively secretive and furtive, and, of course, frighteningly self-confident. He was friendly with the three of them, spent more time with them than with anyone else – and possibly spent as much time with them as they did with each other – but at the same time, there was a certain feeling to him that he was an outsider, and would keep it that way.

A small pebble striking the back of her neck jerked Tanith out of her reverie, and she almost knocked the cauldron over. This won a glare from Doyle, which she staunchly ignored, then glanced over her shoulder discreetly.

Nick Wilson and Andy Harding were paying far too much attention to their cauldron, but from the way Wilson glared at Harding, it seemed as if Tanith had _not _been their intended target. Doubtless they had been aiming for Doyle as a fairly light retribution for lunchtime. It seemed as if they were learning that it was not wise to pick a fight in the middle of Snape's class with members of his own house.

Tanith shook her head and glanced back. Right then, she wasn't going to give them the time of day. She had this potion to focus on, and later she'd work on humiliating them. What they'd done to Cal had been petty, and the fact that the Slytherins had failed to bring vengeance down meant that they'd got away with it.

_Revenge is a dish best served cold_, Tanith remembered her mother telling her. Gaia Cole had actually been a Ravenclaw, but years of living with Daedalus would be enough to send anyone fairly paranoid. No, she would leave Cal and the others to bring down whatever disastrous doom they had in mind down on the Gryffindors, and she herself would find a quieter, more subtle way of getting them for hexing her friends.

Once she thought of a way. As an only child, she wasn't all that used to pranking… which was probably a good thing, as this wasn't some cheerful teasing thing they had going on. This, if anything, was war.

A twitch of her foot knocked the stool Anne MacKenzie was leaning against as she measured her own ingredients, and she heard the Gryffindor girl curse softly as she tipped too much wormwood into her cauldron. Jennifer Riley elbowed her partner hard, then hurriedly set about trying to correct the mistake before Snape saw it. It was a petty move, but Tanith was in a petty mood.

Another pebble struck her on the back of her neck, and Tanith, irritated, wondered where the hell they were _getting _these pebbles. The dungeons were hardly full of stones.

Languidly, she raised her right hand and gave the two Gryffindors the V-sign. Snape was lurking somewhere in the corner and peering at Percival Anderson's slightly off-colour potion, and didn't see. Everyone said that he would overlook the indiscretions of Slytherins, but Tanith really didn't want to push it all that much. It wouldn't seem… right. Plus, it was cheap to take advantage of a situation that way. These wars had to be won by sneaking past the teachers, not parading it whenever they could get away with it.

Grey and the others didn't seem to understand that. For them, it wasn't the conflict itself but more the result of the conflict. She'd have to educate them at some point; get them to realise that it wasn't the result, it was the challenge which was the fun bit. The planning and the execution. And watching Gryffindors look like idiots just made it all sweeter. _That_, her father would approve of.

"Ignore them, and we'll get them later," Doyle murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "Maybe in the meantime their aim will improve, and Snape might stop lurking and actually notice it."

"Because that's fun, isn't it," she retorted, shaking her head.

"It's not about the fun," Doyle replied, as if this was obvious.

Tanith sighed and rolled her eyes. "You mean you don't take any delight from bringing those two down a peg or two?"

"Of course I do. I love seeing it happen," he said, a little defensively.

"And don't you love doing it more than you love watching Snape do it?" Tanith tried hopefully, chewing on her lower lip.

"Not really. All the same thing, isn't it?"

Tanith sighed again, shaking her head with defeat. "Boys," she mumbled under her breath. They just didn't understand.

"Hey," Grey, lurking at Doyle's elbow, hissed and poked Doyle in the ribs to catch his attention. "Where are they getting those pebbles from? They just hit Ed's cauldron – are they _trying _to cause a disaster here?" It was probably true that the Gryffindors hitting Edmund Montague's cauldron would be bringing doom upon themselves.

"Can't we just get this damned potion done?" Tanith replied, glowering over her shoulder at the sniggering Wilson and Harding.

"What's got you so eager to shift along all of a sudden?" Doyle asked, raising and eyebrow and looking inquisitive.

She groaned again. "I'd rather make a move once we're out of the lesson," she replied simply, shaking her head.

"Why?" Cal interjected. "Snape won't bat an eyelid whatever we do."

"Yes, but…" Tanith paused. She'd tried to explain already her reasoning for this, but as they cared more about the result than the effort itself – not taking pride in this little conflict as she did – it would probably be hard for them to get their heads around it. She focused her attention on Grey, who was most likely to get this train of thought. "Any mug can cause havoc when a teacher's turning a blind eye. It takes a bit more skill to do it discreetly and not get caught."

Doyle shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. Tanith's head snapped over to look at him. "What?" she demanded imperiously.

He chuckled again. "We are focusing way too much on this. Just relax. They'll trip over themselves eventually. Only know that we are Slytherin, and thus superior to their Gryffindor selves."

Grey raised an eyebrow dubiously. "You're beginning to sound like bloody Warrington," he pointed out.

"They _hexed _me," Cal hissed irritably and forcefully. "You know, I'd like to give those buggers a piece of my mind for that. If not a piece of my wand."

"Ah, so you see that here you want to take action yourself, rather than see the results of action?" Tanith asked hopefully.

At that moment Snape swept past them from the back, having highly criticised Anderson's potion and was now eyeing MacKenzie as a possibility for his next target. He was evidently aware of their slightly excessive chatter as he swept past, for he gave them all a distinct look which was enough to knock them into silence. He overlooked Slytherin transgressions when they happened, but on the whole he tried to stop them. He wouldn't openly criticise someone from his own house except in more serious circumstances, but quite often… he wouldn't have to. They knew that Snape could make their lives _very _difficult without taking points off the house.

Grey shrank back a little, but not before catching Tanith's eye and mouthing "Later."

She settled back down, turning her head slightly to allow a pebble to bounce off the desk and go flying forwards into Tom Everard and Richard Keating's cauldron. Everyone seemed to claim that Slytherins started any conflicts, but Wilson and Harding were very fond of antagonising the Slytherins themselves. But, of _course_, everyone believed the Gryffindors. Bastards.

§

Tobias waved his wand irritably at the toothpick he was trying to turn into a needle, ignoring the sniggering coming from just over his shoulder as he did his best to focus. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was probably one of the most interesting subjects Hogwarts had to offer – along with Charms and, out of a vague sense of loyalty, Potions – but it wasn't made easier by the fact that the teacher was the head of the house of Gryffindor. Inter-house relations were _definitely _getting out of hand.

The wood was certainly getting a slightly metallic shine to it, he thought as he tapped his wand against the tiny toothpick. Cal had already lost his toothpick twice, and politely asked McGonagall for another. Others seemed to be losing them on purpose, something that irritated Tobias no end. Were they here to learn, or were they here to be petty?

A toothpick hit him in the back of the neck, and, feeling a wave of sympathy for what Tanith had had to undergo the hour before in Potions, Tobias turned around wearily to glare at Montague and Bletchley, both of who waved cheerfully at him as if nothing had happened. Instead of letting them bother McGonagall again, he leant down to pick it up and tossed it back to them.

"You dropped this," he mumbled, fixing them with a look which showed that his patience was running to an end. At the very least, Tanith had been bugged out of malice. Right now, he was being bugged by his own housemates because they knew he _could _be bugged when they were bored.

McGonagall stepped over towards him, doubtless on a last minute check before the lesson ended and they were set free for the day. With only seconds left, Tobias closed his eyes, pointed his wand at his slightly metallic toothpick, and concentrated hard, mumbling under his breath.

"Very good, Grey," McGonagall congratulated him as she reached the table, and picked up the new needle to show to the class. "I suggest the rest of you practice this over the week, as only one of your number has actually managed to change their toothpick suitably. Five points for Slytherin, Grey," she added, putting the needle down.

"Teacher's pet," Gabriel accused him once they were out in the corridor, companionably punching him on the arm.

"What?" Tobias demanded defensively, yet a little wearily. He knew what was coming. "I suppose there's something bad about getting points for Slytherin from the Gryffindor head, isn't there?" He looked to Cal for support, but he merely shrugged.

"No, Grey, you're right," Tanith agreed with him vaguely, paying more attention to navigating the crowds. She wasn't as tall as Tobias or the fairly lofty Gabriel, nor was she as broad-shouldered as Cal. Of them all, she was most likely to get swept away down the corridor. "Let's just get the homework done. And you can teach us how to transfigure a toothpick."

"No, you can do it by yourselves," Tobias responded sulkily. "It's not my fault if you lot were messing around in the lesson. Learn it all of your own accord. It's not that bloody difficult." He yawned discreetly, stretching a little. "Besides," he continued as they headed for the dungeons and the Slytherin common room. "I've got that charms essay due in for tomorrow to do."

"And he criticises me for doing homework late," Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, I criticise you for spelling things wrong when you do your homework late," Tobias corrected.

"Why?" Cal asked irritably. "Why do you insist on driving us mad with that? It's not as if the teachers go to town on the wrong 'whom' and stuff."

"Exactly!" Tobias snapped, then paused as a few people glanced at him. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "That's my point. The wizarding world has no respect for language and such. _Someone's _got to correct it."

"And that person is… you?" Tanith asked, confused. "Yikes, Muggle schooling really did addle your brain."

"Mine's intact," Cal interjected cheerfully.

Gabriel shrugged as they walked through the corridor towards the patch of wall which opened to the Slytherin common room. "I don't see why you needed to go to school in the first place. Home-schooling's enough for most wizarding children."

"It was… something my father apparently insisted on. Ravenclaws are like that," Tobias replied uncomfortably, but decided to let the topic drop. They evidently weren't going to be bothered about spelling things right like he was. "Anyway, what happened to Gryffindor retribution?"

"If their revenge consisted of throwing pebbles then I'm not sure we have much to worry about. Of course, if they carry on, it may just drive me crazy," Tanith said, shaking her head. "What's the password again?" she checked as they reached the wall panel.

"Dragon Eye," Gabriel replied, stepping forwards as the panel swung aside to let them in. "They seem to be responding to thrown bread with thrown pebbles. Though their aim really could do with some work…"

"Treat like with like is what they're doing, you mean?" Cal said, slouching over towards one of the overstuffed armchairs in the corner.

"Pretty much," Gabriel said.

"Sounds as if, by those rules, we'd be quite allowed to hex them, then?" Tobias pointed out cheerfully. "Pus-filled boils, or all their hair dropping out?" he asked evilly, raising his wand and his charms book.

"Ooh, baldness," Cal begged. "You know that Wilson's such a magnificent poof that spends hours and hours making sure his hair is _just _right…" His voice trailed off as he realised that Gabriel and Tanith had both started to stare at Tobias' hair, and he cleared his throat hurriedly. "So… you know. That'd be a good payback."

Tobias glowered at the other two, then put the charm book down. "Right. _Calvus _it is, then," he declared solemnly. "Only question is, when or how are we going to get the buggers?"

Tanith looked at her wristwatch briefly. "We've got dinner in half an hour. If we can get them before then, we're less likely to be seen doing it in the hustle and bustle. Even if they know full well it was us, they're not going to tell."

Cal chuckled briefly. "Heh. Use their own sense of honour against them. Who says it's all bad to be sneaky?"

"Not me," Gabriel agreed, stretching. "Alright, so we should go. Gryffindors have Herbology now, don't they?"

"Yeah, with the Hufflepuffs, so we're going to have to move. Maybe we can get them out on the school grounds." Tobias glanced around for windows, then silently cursed the underground Slytherin common room. "It should be getting dark by now, too. Perfect for a bit of hexing."

"Then let's go," Cal declared with determination, standing up and almost dragging Tobias along with him towards the door to the common room, tightening his robes around himself a little. "You two stay here," he added to Tanith and Gabriel.

"What?" Tanith demanded incredulously. "Why?"

"Fewer numbers makes it safer," Cal explained simply.

Gabriel frowned. "So why does lanky git here get to go along with you?" he asked sulkily, pointing at a glaring Tobias.

"Because he's the only one who'll be capable of certainly getting the spell right. Unless your marks in charms have miraculously improved?" Cal asked, smiling sweetly. It was obvious nobody was going to challenge _his _right to go along – after all, this was to be retribution for his being hexed in the first place.

Outside, Tobias and Cal breathed simultaneous sighs of relief as they glanced at each other. "That could have exploded nastily," Grey pointed out, folding his arms across his chest and picking up the pace towards the main doors. They would have to move fast if they were to intercept the Gryffindors.

"Nah, they'll take it. Besides, gives them more time to worry about their precious house politics," Cal reminded him, pocketing his wand. "You're sure you can do this, right?" he checked.

"No, I just assume I can," Tobias replied dryly, frowning, not looking at Cal as they ascended the stairs. "But anything to get those Gryffindor idiots back, right? They'll learn that they don't hex us and get away with it."

"Watch it, the sentiment of 'trying your best' is distinctly Hufflepuff. We're meant to be evil, remember?" Cal joked, elbowing his friend.

"Ah yes! And something this is pretty daring – a Gryffindor sentiment – and requires smarts – Ravenclaw qualities. We should probably go back to the common room and sit and scheme for a bit, don't you think," Tobias said dryly, smirking.

There was silence as they made their way through the emptying corridors and arrived at the Main Entrance. They stepped outside into the darkening grounds, just managing to avoid the eye of Mrs Norris, the caretaker Filch's cat. Far away in the Herbology greenhouses, the light was still evident and, just before that, they could make out the silhouettes of approaching students. The duo wordlessly came to a halt just at the foot of the stairs leading to the Main Entrance, waiting.

"Tobias?" Cal asked after a few seconds of silence and more approaching Gryffindors.

"Yes?" Grey replied, not having much patience for these sorts of stop-and-start conversations.

"You know the Gryffindors?"

Tobias rolled his eyes. "No, Cal, I don't have a clue who you mean. I don't have a clue who we're here to come and hex. I don't have a damned idea what you're going on about." He glanced at Cal, who was looking a little reproachful, and sighed. "What about them?"

"Are we really all that different to them?"

This question brought Tobias' sarcastic rambling to a halt, and he blinked quickly, staring at his friend. "Cal, why the hell did you pick _now_, of all times, to ask that question? It's not about being different, this is merely a question of payback."

"Oh, I'm not having second thoughts," the Welshman assured his friend. "I'm just saying, you know… Gabe and Tanith sort of view them as lesser forms of life, sort of scum to be stepped on."

"Half of that is because Wilson's a Muggle-born," Tobias pointed out.

"Makes us bigoted, doesn't it," Cal mumbled sulkily. Tobias knew that this Will Rayner, his foster father, was a Muggle born. Tobias hadn't yet dared to reveal to the world that Robert Grey, the father he had never known yet aspired to be, was similarly not from a wizarding family.

_Why, Grey? You're _ashamed _of someone you've been trying to emulate your whole life?_

He shook his head. Now wasn't the time for this. "Nope. We're not against Wilson because he's Muggle-born – we're against pureblood Harding just as much. They might not view it that way, but we know this." Tobias glanced at Cal. "And it's not that simple anyway. Remember being hexed? It's actions, not people."

Cal considered this for a few moments. "I guess you're right. Just seems we spend an awful amount of time cooking up ways to get at them."

Tobias shrugged. "I'm sure they do the same for us." He paused, thinking hard, then glared at Cal. "Damn you, you bloody insane Welshman," he sighed at last. They met each others' eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You want to head back to the common room?"

"Yeah," Cal mumbled. "Just need to find something convincing to tell Tanith and Gabe," he pointed out.

"Ah, just say that Filch was on the loose and spotted us. It's pretty surprising we've actually got a window for opportunity here as it is; they won't be suspicious." Tobias shrugged. "We'll get Wilson and Harding later. I'm not in the mood now," he said, turning to go.

"And what do you two think you're doing lurking around here?" a voice from over their shoulder called out, and they whirled around to see that the Gryffindors had somehow reached them without their noticing as they had chatted.

"Yeah," Nick Wilson added to Andy Harding's accusation. "Seems sort of… Slytherin-y suspicious to me."

Richard Keating, their short, skinny red-haired class-mate, placed a hand on either of their shoulders. "Guys? We should get back to the common room. Got to clean up before dinner, and soil gets everywhere…"

Harding brushed his hand off. "In a bit, Richard. Let us have a word with our friends here first," he insisted, glancing at the other Gryffindors. The Hufflepuffs they had been sharing their lesson with had already walked past, and the Gryffindors, not wanting to get involved in what they knew to be an everlasting vendetta, were quick to follow them, Keating giving Tobias a warning look as he departed.

"We were just leaving," Cal said sullenly, shaking his head and moving towards the door in the wake of the Gryffindors. "Wanted a bit of fresh air before dinner… Potions and Transfiguration classrooms one after the other can get a bit musty."

Wilson shrugged. "Where's your buddy Doyle?" he asked adamantly. "Hiding as always, not willing to show his face?"

Tobias and Cal exchanged glances. "I think he had a Charms essay to finish off. He's always pretty late at getting work done," Tobias replied dryly, chuckling a little.

"Hmm." Wilson nodded slowly, still eyeing them belligerently. "Tell him thanks for the bread."

"And I'm sure Tanith thanks you for the pebbles. And tells you to improve your aim," Cal retorted, then glanced at Tobias. "It's cold out here. Let's head up for dinner."

"So there was no point to your lurking, I see," Harding mused. "I wonder if –"

He never quite got around to finishing that sentence as an explosion from one of the nearby bushes was heard and two Hufflepuffs shot out, their faces black and hair singed. Everyone stared at each other for a few long moments before the Hufflepuff fourth-years shook their heads, mumbled something and disappeared through the main entrance.

The four first-years exchanged suspicious glances. Tobias blinked. "What the bloody hell was _that_ –"

Again an interruption came as Mrs Norris bounded down the stairs, eyeing them evilly. She mewed, her bedraggled tail twitching, then hissed at them. From within the Main Entrance, shadows could be seen twitching, and a voice called out, the words indistinct but the source unmistakeable. Argus Filch.

"Now might be a good time to peg it," Cal hissed, grabbing Tobias by the arm and dragging him further back in the shadows, unintentionally towards the frozen Gryffindors they had been facing off a few seconds earlier.

"Why?" Harding asked. "We didn't do anything!"

"That doesn't matter to Filch, you plonker!" Cal said, shaking him a little. "Suggest leaving, _now_," he insisted, turning and fleeing without even waiting for Tobias to follow, though he and the two Gryffindors were close behind as they disappeared into the darkness.

Filch's shouting could still be heard behind them, and they had made the slight mistake of taking the path dangerously close towards the lake, which would be an effective dead end unless they found a better route.

"You prat, this is the wrong way," Tobias hissed at Cal as they skidded to a halt before the murky depths of the lake. "We should have cut back towards the castle; we'd have had a better chance in the corridors, especially if we made it to the crowds." He thwacked Cal on the back of the head.

Wilson sighed and shook his head. "Don't you Slyths know anything?" he sighed, and exchanged a knowing glance with Harding. "The grounds are better to hide in. It's dark, a torch doesn't give us away if we keep enough of a distance… just use your head."

"Oi!"

Filch's shout from much closer than they had thought galvanised them into action, and they hurtled off like surprised rabbits. It might not have been the best idea to split up, but acting on instinct Wilson hurried towards the edges of the Forbidden Forest with Tobias, and Harding and Cal disappeared somewhere in the gloom around the far side of the lake.

Tobias ran as fast as he could, his long legs carrying him over a greater distance than Wilson, but he had a solid grip on the Gryffindor's shoulder and practically dragged him along behind him, not planning on leaving his usual antagonist behind for Filch to find. That wasn't the name of the game.

Wilson slowed down a little and tugged on his arm as they approached the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. "In here, you dozy git," he hissed in Tobias' ear, grabbing him and yanking him into a large bush to their left. Filch, even if he was chasing them, was too far behind to see them disappear, and would probably assume they had headed into the Forbidden Forest.

"Just stay silent," Wilson whispered as they lay flat in the bush. "Only risk is if Mrs Norris smells us… try to stay scent-free, you stinky Slyth."

Tobias snorted. "I would have thought that the aura of self-righteousness following you Gryffindors would have been enough to alert Filch to our presence. Maybe you should lower your moral high ground."

"I could have left you to run on alone back there, you know," Wilson exclaimed quietly but indignantly.

"And I could have outrun you and left you behind for Filch to find!" Tobias pointed out.

Wilson paused, frowning. "This is true. Why didn't you?"

"Because…" Tobias stopped, looking a little insulted that Wilson could question him like that, but still unable to think up a suitable response. "Because… the aim isn't to try and get you prats into trouble, it's to try and humiliate you of our own accord!" he explained falteringly. "You wouldn't have abandoned us to Filch, would you."

"Well, no… but…" Wilson shifted a little, pushing the leaves of the bushes aside to ensure that Filch wasn't too close. "You're _Slytherins_."

"And having ambitions and being cunning means that we can't possibly have a vague sense of honour?" Tobias challenged quietly. "We do play by rules as well. Of course, there are thugs like Montague and Bletchley, but that's not all of us!" He paused, searching for the words. "The thuggish and pettier Slytherins overshadow the more decent specimens."

"You haven't been overshadowed," Wilson mumbled.

"Thank you," Tobias replied, taking it as a compliment. "But that's not true. Everyone knows about Montague and Bletchley, and that bitch Melanie Larkin. How many people who haven't had direct contact with us would know our names?"

Filch's voice suddenly cutting through the darkness shushed them into silence for a few seconds, and Wilson flattened himself against the grass as the torch light played across the grounds and threatened to penetrate their shield of bushes.

"Going to catch you, yes… have to ask Professor Dumbledore if I can still use those chains in the dungeons for students blowing up bushes… might even get the help of that great oaf Hagrid for damaging his precious grounds… and…"

The torch light shifted around, and as Filch's footsteps drew closer to their location and they stiffened, a loud shriek was heard back in the direction they had come from… a yowl which was unmistakeable as a cat's cry.

"Mrs Norris!" Filch shouted, forgetting his chase as the sound of his distraught pet was heard, and Wilson and Tobias fell silent as his footsteps carried the caretaker away from their hiding spot. They waited wordlessly for a few more minutes, making sure he wasn't going to return, before crawling out of the bush.

"Well, that was lucky," Tobias commented, brushing himself down. "I wonder what happened?"

"Who cares?" Wilson chuckled. "I'm just hungry. Come on, or we'll be late for dinner and Filch will put two and two together." They walked in silence towards the light of the castle, Wilson looking pensive for a few moments. "Hope Andy and Brynmor didn't get caught."

"I doubt they did, mind. If Filch was chasing after us, then they should have been able to slip away," Tobias said helpfully.

"Heh. I'm assuming Brynmor didn't abandon Andy, then," Wilson mused.

"He's no more likely to than I," Tobias replied haughtily. The light of the castle was close, and as they ascended the stairs back into the main entrance, they saw Harding and Cal standing at the threshold, almost leaning against each other as they howled with laughter, tears running down their faces.

"Hmm. The Welshman must have driven him insane," Wilson said, frowning a little as he and Tobias eyed the other two dubiously.

"Did… did you hear…" Cal tried to straighten up as he was paralysed with laughter, and could hardly gasp through his chuckles. "…Did you hear Mrs Norris's yowling back there?"

Tobias and Wilson exchanged glances again, then nodded. "It sent Filch running after her," Wilson said slowly.

Harding laughed even louder, slapping his thighs as he and Cal managed to stand up straight. "Well… that was us…"

Again, Tobias and Wilson looked nonplussed.

Cal raised his wand and then pocketed it, sniggering as he tapped his nose. "_Calvus_. Filch… Filch… has a bald cat now!" he managed to gasp, before he and Harding collapsed, sniggering, all over again, and as realisation dawned on the other two, it wasn't all that long before they, too, became paralysed with laughter along with them. It sure as hell wasn't the start of a friendship, but it was probably the beginning of a toning down of such an intense vendetta.


	10. March 29th, 1996 – Sixth Year

**March 29th, 1996**** – Sixth Year**

"At last! Finally, eyes have been opened and people are doing what has to be done!" the nasal, grating voice of Draco Malfoy shot across the Slytherin Common Room, prompting a variety of emotions on the part of his audience, ranging from excitement to sheer irritation but with genuine interest guaranteed from all.

"Are we throwing the little twerp out of a window?" Cal Brynmor asked quietly from where he was lounged across a sofa in the corner of the Common Room he and his friends had claimed upon the end of classes. "Because that's beginning to sound like it's what needs to be done."

Tobias fixed him with a glare as he straightened up in his armchair opposite, not with much enthusiasm but still with sincerity. "Don't insult the prefects, Cal."

Tanith, who was perched on the armrest of Cal's sofa, slapped her friend lightly around the head, her expression one of disapproval. "Even if they are little twerps." She hopped to her feet, still leaning against the couch but becoming more noticeable in the room as she turned to face the commotion. "What's happened, Draco?"

Cal reasoned to himself that Tanith had to play nice due to constant family and business connections the Coles had with the Malfoys. It still didn't stop him from making a mocking expression which was, mercifully, hidden from all but Tobias, who threw a screwed-up wad of parchment at him pointedly.

Malfoy seemed quite oblivious to the lack of respect he was receiving in the corner as he moved to hop onto a low table in the middle of the room. Now the Slytherins were actually waking up somewhat, roused by such activity. "As of tomorrow, the balance of power in this school amongst the students shall be changing. No more shall Dumbledore's hand-picked lackeys be running around with almighty power as prefects!"

"Yeah, because you're a lackey of Dumbledore, aren't you," Cal mumbled disparagingly under his breath. Tobias gave him another look, but it was clear his interest was waning with Malfoy's ranting, because he raised his copy of _The Clarion_ again and resumed reading the newspaper.

"Our new headmistress is implementing new changes to move with the times. And one of these important changes, putting the power back in the hands of those who are loyal to the vision of Hogwarts' future, is going to _strengthen _that future…"

Cal groaned audibly, still staring at the ceiling, then took a deep breath. "Just get to the point and stop blathering, Malfoy!" he called out, before closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep.

Malfoy gave the couch that had addressed him a surprised look, clearly knocked off balance for a moment, and took a brief moment before gathering himself. "_Anyway_…" he continued at last, glaring in Cal's direction, then looking back at everyone else, "I would like to introduce you all to the Hogwarts Inquisitorial Squad, now the new disciplinary and authoritative intermediary between the Head and the students."

A stunned silence greeted this statement, until Tanith stepped forward, her expression as impassive and controlled as always – though those who knew her well could sense her confusion. "What's it going to do? What's going to happen to prefects?"

"Prefects will remain," Malfoy said dismissively. "But they'll be a second class of authority compared to the Inquisitorial Squad. Of course, all loyal Slytherins are welcome to join! I'll be drawing up a list presently that will be submitted to the headmistress for her confirmation. Speak to me to express your interest. Thank you."

And, with all the aplomb of a politician who had just made an election-winning speech, he descended from the table and began to swagger about the room, talking with various Slytherins, doubtless trying to recruit for this new endeavour.

"What the hell is this?" Cal asked incredulously, sitting up at last. "Is Umbridge utterly nuts? We don't need more authoritative students. Prefects work perfectly well!"

Tobias didn't make a reply, merely grunted from behind his newspaper, but Gabriel, who had been lurking silently by the window until now, grimaced faintly as he glanced over. "That they do, but they've been appointed by a regime Umbridge is just trying to wipe out, forget. She wants a new powerbase here."

Cal glared at the table, as if Tanith's Transfiguration notes were responsible for their plight. "See, I bet Hufflepuffs sit around talking about playing Gobstones or something, not discussing in-depth the political plight of the school. Lucky bastards."

"No, just fools with low aspirations," Malfoy's voice penetrated their gloom, and made Cal's temples thump with something approaching a headache. "They don't understand what's going on here. Leave them to their games. They'll understand, eventually."

Cal lay back down on the couch again. "Oh, I don't doubt it. It must be very encouraging for you, Malfoy. Because once the Hufflepuffs begin to understand what's going on, you'll just be one step behind them in achieving such enlightenment, surely. Maybe you can ask them to help you work out what's going on?"

Malfoy ignored him. It was not the blank face of someone who had been insulted and wasn't going to dignify it with a response. It was the almost-genuine expression of someone who simply hadn't heard any response, and Tobias couldn't help but being grudgingly admiring of how the younger student had just shrugged off the slur. After all, here in Slytherin Common Room, _he _had the power.

"I'll assume you'll be signing up for the Inquisitorial Squad, Tanith, Grey, Gabriel?" Malfoy looked at the three of them, still ignoring Cal utterly, his expression one of presumptuous disdain at this point. "After all, you're just the sort we're looking for?"

"I thought I saw you talking to your lackeys Crabbe and Goyle? And Montague and such? I never thought we fit in such categories," Gabriel commented quietly, picking up Tobias' paper as the other boy let it drop on to the table, too concerned with Malfoy as he was to focus on any stories about Ministry funding for Muggle Protection being cut a few days before.

Malfoy lightly kicked the feet of Cal, who grudgingly shifted to allow the rat-faced fifth-year to perch on the sofa, his eyes lighting. "Of course we need them. Muscle. Intimidation. But I'll also need someone with brains –"

"…because heavens know you don't have them yourself…"

"– to help me with this." Again, Malfoy's blank dismissal of Cal's comments. "The balance of power in the school is changing. It's not Dumbledore and his blasted Gryffindors getting everything, every year, all the time. Aren't you sick of that?"

Cal sat up now. "I guess Umbridge isn't going to take the House Cup away from us at the last second," he commented, looking thoughtful. "And we bloody well deserve it. It's all because of his favouritism towards Potter, you know."

Finally Malfoy acknowledged him with a thin smile. "You see my point. Umbridge isn't going to turn a blind eye towards other houses breaking the rule. You _know _that we're undermined every single time we do something well." His expression turned a little bitter. "This Inquisitorial Squad is a chance to change that."

"Will people from other Houses be there as well?" Tanith asked, listening attentively.

Malfoy shrugged. "Some. Some _are _suitably… devoted."

"Some?" Tobias looked sceptical. "Won't that be unbalanced if there are loads of us…"

"In our favour. That's the beauty of it. We're not going to be stamped on any more." Malfoy's hand curled into a fist. "It's the right time to be a _Slytherin_. We don't have to look at the rest of the school with shame any more."

Tobias wasn't sure Malfoy had ever shown shame for anything, but if he wanted to pretend that he'd been downtrodden for five years and was just getting payback, he wasn't really going to press the issue in case the crazy little nut-job attacked him. "What about –"

"I like this," Gabriel interrupted, calmly folding the paper up and tossing it back on to the table. "It looks like we're going to win the Quidditch. Dumbledore's not here to allow the Gryffindors to magically take away House Cup victories which are rightfully ours." Slytherin had not recovered from the slight five years ago. "Maybe it's a time when we can actually achieve on our own merits."

"Instead of being labelled as the black sheep of the school and horribly overlooked every single time we do something well." Cal looked thoughtful at last, a little swayed. "Because, you know… we're _evil_. Didn't you get the memo?"

Malfoy smiled slightly. "You understand. I'm sick and tired of our every achievement being put down to cheating, and every time we're beaten, fairly or unfairly, it's a 'long-awaited put-down'. Whereas Gryffindor can do no wrong."

"Because they're Dumbledore's favourites," Cal muttered bitterly.

"And they're so good and pure and brave and righteous and – oh, God, kill me now." Tanith rolled her eyes in absolute agreement.

"These are all valid points." Tobias straightened up, raising his hands slightly to calm down the vitriol flying about freely. "And the loss of Dumbledore is likely to correct this. In a year when we win the House Cup fair and square he can't give it to Gryffindor because of bloody Potter. The fact remains that I'm not sure I understand why we need an entirely new authoritative regime."

Malfoy shrugged. "The prefects about the school are saturated with Dumbledore's perspective. They're anti-Slytherin, biased against us, opposing fairness within the school."

Even through the sense of indignation Malfoy had successful swept Cal into, he could easily recognise the blatant manipulation of the younger student's words. If he believed equality within the school was a worthy aspiration, then he, Cal, was a niffler. That said, the boy was making valid points, even if he didn't believe them. "You think Dumbledore's antiquated and bigoted style of leadership can fade if his pawns are still in place?"

"Why don't we just replace the prefects?" Tobias challenged.

"Umbridge would," Malfoy agreed, "but that requires a level of bureaucracy and an extent of valid reasons to do so on an individual basis that there isn't truly time for. And under the system Dumbledore's similar predecessors introduced, there has to be proof of active unsuitability on the part of a prefect to remove them; it cannot be done at just the flick of a finger. Defiance against the Head, repeated insubordination to professors, breakings of the rules – one by one, it can be done, but massively?"

"It's just a mess. The prefects will just have to have their duties downscaled for it to work." Tanith sounded thoughtful rather than agreeing. "And you want us to sign up?"

Malfoy nodded. "You're all good, solid Slytherins. You have… brains, compared to Montague and Pucey. You're clearer thinkers than Bletchley, though he is a strong candidate in his own right." He smiled. "Think about it. The chance to let the Gryffindors who've mocked you pay for what they've done."

Tobias straightened up. "Wait, this shouldn't be about _vengeance_, it should be –"

"The chance to rip house points of out McLaggen for being such a hypocritical little self-righteous turd." Cal was staring off into space, his expression one of almost hypnosis as he considered just how wonderful such a prospect could be. Teaching the Gryffindors a _real _lesson.

Malfoy smiled. "So it's decided, then? All four of you will be signing up for the Inquisitorial Squad? I do know you would be a valuable addition to our constantly-swelling ranks. Equality shall return to Hogwarts."

Tanith shrugged. "Don't see why not."

Cal smiled a little. Of course she didn't. It was something to do. She'd always thrown herself into her prefect duties with extreme competence, ruling with a slightly more stick than carrot technique than Tobias, but more fairly than most Slytherin prefects. Tanith also knew more of Slytherin politics than any of them; was more aware of how to play the game, was the most involved. She knew what she was getting herself into and how it could work for her.

He, on the other hand, just wanted to see Cormac McLaggen and his cronies pay for acting like they had. And he didn't care how petty it was. "Count me in."

Gabriel also looked up from the newspaper. "Sure. I'll mastermind, don't expect me to have to actually _talk _to any idiots from other houses."

Malfoy looked a little surprised at Doyle's statement, but didn't question it. He just blinked for a moment, then turned to look over at Tobias, the only remaining member of the quartet and the only one who hadn't given his answer. "Grey?"

"Nope." Tobias looked almost bored as he stared off into space pensively.

Malfoy blinked again. "No?"

"I'm a prefect. Why do I need to be a member of the Inquisitorial Squad?" Tobias finally glanced over, his expression suggesting that this proposal was on a par with the concept of wearing two pairs of trousers at once.

The younger boy bristled a little. "Moving with the times, Grey. Realising that Hogwarts is changing is important. Shrugging off Dumbledore's old regime. Stepping up and being ready to do what is needed for Slytherin."

Tobias waved a hand dismissively. "I can do that as a prefect. I'd rather not be a member of a private army, if that's all the same to you."

Malfoy stood up, looking now a little affronted. "Grey… do you understand what you're saying?" His voice suggested he believed Tobias to be a simpleton. "You're rejecting the ways of Umbridge in favour of the ways of Dumbledore."

Tobias fixed him with a cold look. "I'm actually sticking with the old Muggle adage: _If it ain't broke, don't fix it_. It makes more sense."

Tanith's eyes flashed, but more with concern than anything else, and she stepped forwards to grab Malfoy by the elbow and tug him away from the brewing confrontation. "I'll talk to him. He's just in a mood," Cal heard her hiss, and was pretty sure Tobias heard too from the way he looked fairly put out. Regardless, this seemed to placate Malfoy enough to get him to saunter off with his scrap of parchment, now looking a little disgruntled.

Tanith turned back to face Tobias, her jaw clenched as she fixed him with a look. Cal rejected the urge to leap under the couch and hide there until the explosion was done. Their relationship had been much more tense in the whole three months of this year than ever before – and Cal was certain that this had in no possible, conceivable, imaginable way anything to do with the events that had taken place at New Year's. And, yes, there Cal was, about to turn into that niffler again if he believed that.

But as such, even minor arguments between the pair had been much more heated, corresponding neatly with times that Tanith discovered new particular information about Tobias' relationship with Annie MacKenzie, which stubbornly refused to die. The fact that neither Cal nor Gabriel would never _dream _of telling Tanith the snippets that filtered through from Tobias, that Tobias wasn't stupid enough to tell her himself, and that Tanith didn't exactly move in the same circles as Gryffindors who could provide her with information of the other side of the affair meant that the knowledge she did gain was sparse and often full of holes. Regardless, when she got a snippet, she got snippy.

When she didn't get a snippet, she snapped. For any other reason she could possibly find under the sun.

This latest reason was even a _good _reason to snap. As such, Cal expected nuclear holocaust any time soon. He mentally braced himself for explosions as Tanith opened her mouth to address Tobias.

"That wasn't wise, Toby."

Cal unclenched a shade, full of suspicion. Okay, no last names. First name, in a _familiar _form. Was this a sneak attack?

Tobias didn't seem to notice as he shrugged uncaringly. "I'm not particularly bothered. I refuse to sign up to that old toad's personal bully squad. I'm a prefect, I'm here to keep the peace, and I can do that perfectly well without joining any new regulatory group. The prefect's badge allows me to do exactly what I aspire to do, so I don't need to go further."

"I said it wasn't _wise_, not that it wasn't practical. You've rejected Malfoy, but more important, via proxy, you've rejected _Umbridge_. Umbridge embraces Slytherin – I assume she was a snake herself at Hogwarts, or she just recognises that we were always to be her most loyal allies against Dumbledore…" Tanith began to pace slightly, another sign of her irritation. It still confused Cal that this irritation wasn't being used to physically, emotionally and verbally pummel Tobias into submission.

"Yeah, imagine that. Dumbledore marginalises us for decades and we turn out to have bugger-all loyalty to him." Gabriel was clearly either more foolish or more brave than Cal to dare intrude into the conversation.

Tanith didn't kill him for interrupting this private discussion being held in public. Cal wondered now if the apocalypse was already happening outside of their windows.

"Point, Gabe. The prefects are Dumbledore's institution. They were appointed by him, they enforced his rule."

"They enforce _Hogwarts _rule, Tanith." Tobias' own irritation finally snuck into his voice, and Cal knew for sure that, when Tobias began to push back, sudden death was near. "And have done for centuries. It's bigger than Dumbledore. Hogwarts is bigger than Dumbledore. Umbridge can't recognise this. I refuse to sign myself up to some power-crazed maniac's pursuit to enforce a rule which will be fought every step of the way." Tobias stood. "You know this is wrong," he hissed, so just the group of them and not the entire common room would hear. "You all know this is stupid. So I refuse to sit here and listen to you try to convince yourselves that this is a good idea."

Cal watched him stalk off towards the dorms, nonplussed. "I don't know why he's sulking. He could give George Summerby detention for a year if he began drooling all over MacKenzie again. He'd like that."

Tanith snorted derisively. "I think Summerby has better sense and taste than that." She straightened up. "Grey's just being stupid. He likes that. He'll see sense soon enough. This Inquisitorial Squad might be a load of bollocks, but Grey learnt at about the same time everyone did how to play the game."

"I'd really rather not play the game. The game's boring. Kind of like this newspaper." Gabriel threw _The Clarion _back down on the table with a dissatisfied grunt. "Regardless, I'm less bothered by people in general when I play the game. Tobias knows this."

"He's just got his goat because this is one of those 'principle' things." Tanith smiled wryly. "He'll come around once he sees sense."

Gabriel snorted. "You said that about him and MacKenzie. Three month anniversary tomorrow and still going strong."

Cal wasn't particularly surprised when this comment won a severely cold glare from Tanith, and he watched her stalk off to her dormitory in a fashion rather similar to how Tobias had stormed off moments before. "Smooth, Gabe. Real smooth."

Gabriel shrugged. "What? I'm right. She's just being as stupid as he is. At least he's not so up to his neck in denial that he's about to be swallowed by the stuff. Remember Valentine's Day?"

"When she had us constantly finding excuses to pester Tobias for anything under the sun while we were at Hogsmeade just so we could interrupt his date with MacKenzie? Even if it was something really, really minor that could wait for later."

Gabriel blinked. "No, Cal, the _other _Valentine's Day where Tanith was pissed." He rolled his eyes. "Though when you put it like that, it does rather point out how bloody thick _he _is to not realise what's going on."

"It's pretty obvious. You're right. Denial is not just a river in Egypt, and Tanith is definitely not an Africa sort of person. _Ow_!" Cal raised his hand to rub his head as he felt a solid and stinging swat catch him across the back of it. He looked up to see Tanith standing over him, glaring. "I thought you were pissed with Gabe?"

Tanith shrugged. "I forgot my quill." She grabbed it from where it sat on the table, still glowering, then turned to go.

Cal laughed briefly. "Yeah, that's it, Tanith. Try that dramatic, angry exit again. Because, you know, it has more impact the second time in as many minutes… _Ow_!"

§

"I was very surprised to see that your name was not on the list submitted to me by Draco Malfoy, Mister Grey."

Tobias felt a little bit like a soldier being dressed down as he stood attentively before the desk of the Headmistress in her office. Though it wasn't the Office of the Head of Hogwarts School – that had refused to let her in, something he had smirked about – but rather the office of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher with the signs changed. It was cheap, it was a mockery, and it sorted Umbridge perfectly.

"You were?" He thought playing dumb might be safer right then.

Umbridge looked at him across the top of her spectacles with dark, beady eyes. "I was indeed. You are a fore-running prefect in your year. A prime candidate for Head Boy next year. One of the shining examples to your peers in Slytherin House. I would have thought to see you as one of the very first names on the list."

Tobias winced. "I am, as you say, miss, a prefect. As such, I do not see that there is a need for me to sign on for the… Inquisitorial Squad, you say it is called? No. The duties I wish to perform for Hogwarts School can be aptly performed in my capacity as prefect of the sixth year of Slytherin House."

She gave him a faint glare, though rather well-hidden. After years of growing nearly impervious to Tanith Cole's glares, Umbridge's were rather inconsequential. "You do not recognise that this is a great opportunity for you to prove your worth to the school? The Inquisitorial Squad is of a much higher calibre of order maintaining. I would have thought you would aspire to the next level. Like a good Slytherin."

_The schools of thought as to what makes a 'good Slytherin' have bickered for many, many a year. The school of thought I agree with makes me out to be an **excellent **Slytherin… but then, I always did tend to root for the underdog._ Tobias only smiled faintly, politely, and did not answer.

Umbridge leaned back in her chair cautiously. "The other prefect of your year, Tanith Cole, apparently a good friend of yours, has signed up for the Squad."

Tobias nodded slightly. "That's her choice."

"As has Caspian Warrington, Elise Yeats, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson. You are the only Slytherin prefect to have not signed up for the Inquisitorial Squad."

"This I know, miss." Tobias fixed his gaze neutrally on a spot just above Umbridge's head.

"May I ask as to why you are so different to your companions that you do not wish to be a part of the Squad? Or why you think you might be unsuited for the Squad?" Her voice was sickly sweet and the trap she'd just laid glaringly obvious. He gagged mentally.

"If all of Slytherin were the same, it would be a very dull house." No – a schoolyard response. Tanith thought she played 'the game', thought she was unrivalled. Tobias knew he had now entered a far higher level than he'd expected when he walked into this office. "It's a simple question of time allocation."

"You do not believe yourself to be capable of sustaining both duties while your housemates clearly seem to believe that they can rise to the challenge?" Umbridge sounded surprised.

_Yes, draw the conclusion I wanted you to draw, you overgrown toad._ Again, he smiled vacantly, politely. "No. Not at all. However, it is a simple matter of fact that these individuals have been fully dedicated to their role as prefects. If they have to now focus a large portion of their time to devotedly acting as members of the Inquisitorial Squad – and I _know _they will be acting devotedly – it simply stands to reason that they will be unable to perform as prefects to their full capacity."

Umbridge frowned. "The Inquisitorial Squad takes precedence over prefects in matters of discipline. The prefects are merely… backups."

"In matters of discipline, yes. But in other matters – matters of morale, matters of organisation, events such as arranging the decorations of the Great Hall on special occasions and dealing with room allocation for the societies you have deemed suitable to be reformed since Educational Decree Twenty-Four. There is more to a prefect's duties than discipline. As all other prefects of all other houses are also not on the Inquisitorial Squad, it would cause a huge imbalance within the organisation of the prefects for Slytherin to be under-represented if their prefects have additional duties that _will _eat up portions of their time."

"So you are sacrificing yourself for the good of Slytherin?" Umbridge smiled sweetly, and he resisted a shudder.

"Effectively, yes." Tobias blinked. "Which brings me on to my next issue with the Inquisitorial Squad, a more critical one…"

Umbridge's smile broadened as he faltered, and he knew he would have to push on or back down and lose utterly. But no – he was going to beat her on this level even if it cost him heavily. "Yes? Well-considered criticisms are always to be heard."

Tobias took a deep breath. "The imbalance within the group. I have mentioned of how, if I joined the Squad, that would leave Slytherin at half-strength in the prefects. Yet I have not seen a single member of a house other than Slytherin appear on the list of potential members of the Inquisitorial Squad. Which is purely unbalanced and unfair."

Umbridge leaned back. "You do know that the Inquisitorial Squad is an instrument of change. Out with the old, in with the new – removing Dumbledore's ancient regime seeped in a corrupt past and replacing it with a shining future. Members of Slytherin can see the flaws with Dumbledore's system, which is why they have stepped up to try and change it, and are thus suitable for the Inquisitorial Squad. Members of other houses are still misguided and follow Dumbledore's old ways – therefore they are not suitable for directing the change to the new way which the Inquisitorial Squad represents." She opened her hands in an inviting manner. "It is as simple as that."

Tobias scowled. "It's still unfair, unbalanced, and an unnecessary undermining of the authority of the prefects – a system which has worked for centuries and shall continue to work for centuries more, centuries where your Inquisitorial Squad will have been long-forgotten after it is shown as the biased failure it clearly is."

_Damn. So much for staying cool. You let her bait you there, let her lead you down the merry path to irritation and anger and you lost it. You lost **this**. You have two options now. Surrender, or let her pummel you into the dust_.

Umbridge made a small steeple with her short, stubby fingers. "I find this sort of display unnerving, Mister Grey. Rather unsuitable for a prefect of your stature. I had always thought highly of you – Professor Snape always spoke highly of you. Compared to the lesser qualities of your counterparts in other houses, I had always assumed that it would be you who would be made Head Boy next year. But it seems that I must have been wrong about you, for you do not seem to be acting in a way which deserves even that prefect's badge you wear. Not if you feel this way." She paused, her eyes meeting his coldly. "You truly do not wish to join the Inquisitorial Squad?"

_How quaint. She's giving you a chance to back down. A chance to surrender and just fall into line. It would be almost touching if it weren't for the fact that she knows perfectly well that you won't take this chance and it only serves to make her appear benevolent._

_So this is what it's like to be beaten so badly you're pummelled into the dust?_

Tobias frowned, straightening up. "I do not. I will not associate myself with such a group."

"Then you will not be associated with the prefects, either." Umbridge reached out her hand. "I would like your badge, Mister Grey. Perhaps Miles Bletchley will be more suited to it, or maybe Caldwyn Brynmor. They both seem to be more aware of their place and the place of the future."

Tobias' frown deepened, and he reached down to slowly unpin the shiny, prominent badge with the great 'P' on it denoting his status. He _liked _that badge. He remembered the summer he'd been given that badge – now almost two years ago, back just before the Quidditch World Cup, the culmination of four years of hard work.

He'd always taken good care of it. Polished it, but not to blinding status – just so it didn't look battered, like Warrington's often had. It was a symbol demanding respect, and he respected it.

His hands were clumsy and slow as he unpinned the badge, almost impaling his thumb as he did so, and he twirled it in his hands for a long moment, staring at it, remembering what it represented to him and what it had given him.

"It is a shame," Umbridge said, jerking him out of his reverie. "You would have made an excellent Head Boy."

So he scowled, taking a step back, and tossed the prefect badge down onto her desk. It didn't leave a satisfying rattle like he'd hoped, but rather bounced and almost knocked over a teacup. Then, without waiting for any kind of dismissal or even response, he turned on his heel and stormed out of Umbridge's office.

He'd run terrified about the Quidditch World Cup as Death Eaters caused havoc. He'd completely and utterly humiliated himself in front of his best friends when making a pathetic effort to win her more-than-platonic affection. He'd landed himself in a blazing fight with Gryffindor House where he'd been accused of betraying his father and of siding with murderers. He'd been forced by Dementors to relive all of his worst moments in one go.

But this… today… had to be the worst day of his life.

But even as he finished that thought, a voice echoing down the corridor interrupted him. It was lunchtime, and although he'd been hungry and hoping the meeting with Umbridge could go quickly when she'd summoned him, his stomach now just felt tight and he had no desire to head down to the Great Hall for the last twenty minutes of the hour and get some food. As such, though, he was rather surprised to hear a sign of anyone else moving about the corridors.

"Toby! Hold up!"

He paused, feeling like he was running more on automatic than actually living and breathing at that moment. With a supreme effort to try and shake himself out of this bizarre reverie, he turned to face the voice, a voice he should have recognised but really couldn't place at that moment, with the blood rushing in his ears.

Annie was heading towards him rapidly, obviously having just detached herself from the group of Gryffindors down the far end of the corridor – Tobias was surprised at the sudden burning desire within him to fix McLaggen, Wilson and Riley with death-stares.

But before he could think on this too much, Annie had reached him, looking a little out of breath. "There you are!" she gasped, grabbing him by the sleeve a little urgently. "I've been looking for you all morning."

Tobias shrugged, unable to conjure up interest or curiosity at that moment. All he really wanted to do was go back to his dormitory and try to get some sleep. Even the prospect of a really good Ancient Runes lesson that afternoon couldn't at least jerk him into some sense of normality, of routine.

"I was… around," he said evasively. As he saw her expression twitch – just a little, just enough to remind him of her ways, just enough to remind him that she wasn't hugely fond of a descent into Slytherin secrecy, he sighed. "I had to talk to Professor Umbridge," he admitted.

Annie frowned a little. "About the Inquisitorial Squad?" She spoke the words like they were a curse.

"Yeah. Listen…" Finally, with his brain beginning to work again, he wanted to try and offload this sensation of his gut twisting. She'd listen, wouldn't she? Let him offload? Wasn't that meant to be a part of a relationship?

"Hang on," she interrupted. "I need to talk to you." Her expression tightened again a little, and it was Tobias' turn to frown. "Can we go somewhere… a bit more out of the way?"

He glanced around. His mind, still working as a prefect, insisted that empty classrooms weren't really an option – but, honestly, what was the point in living by law and order? Prefects were gone, the Inquisitorial Squad was in, and what was a fellow Slytherin going to do if they caught him? Shrug and walk off, most likely.

"In here," he said, leading her unthinkingly towards an empty Charms classroom. As he expected, during lunchtime, it was abandoned; Flitwick would be down the Great Hall, or in his office, or the staff room… at most, in one of the bigger, NEWT classrooms preparing for the afternoon's block of lessons with seventh-year Ravenclaws.

The room felt about as abandoned as he did; devoid of life, odd and almost creepy without any human presence within. But it would do the job for a quiet conversation. Tobias turned to face her as he closed the door behind him, crossing his arms across his chest. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked, a little stiffly. He wasn't getting the vibe of comfort from her he usually did; locked up in his own pain at that moment, all he could feel was this twisting in his gut.

"Well. Now, it's just been blown into a much bigger thing than I'd wanted it to." She looked genuinely unhappy, but moved back to perch on the edge of a desk. "Look… everything's going crazy. With Umbridge, and this new Slytherin Squad…"

"Inquisitorial Squad. It's not a Slytherin Squad." His voice tightened a little. "Anyone with the 'right views', from any House, is eligible to join." He knew he was meant to be mocking; knew that he felt no genuine respect, nor could he conjure up any genuine argument, to defend the Inquisitorial Squad. But he could feel his voice failing to catch up with his sentiments.

Annie scowled. "Right views? Views of blood supremacy, absolute rule, disciplining anyone these members don't like? I didn't think you'd be in with any of that crap, Toby."

He unfolded his arms, looking at her a little sternly and somewhat quizzically. "What makes you think that I am? You're just assuming I'm a member."

"Are you saying that you're not?"

He _should _have just shaken his head, taken her hand, and assured her that he was still the same old Tobias, still the same guy who wasn't interested in any of the political mess of his housemates.

Unfortunately, the shade of doubt in her voice kicked the emptiness in his stomach again. "I didn't say that. I'm just marvelling at how you're jumping to conclusions."

"Conclusions? The entirety of Slytherin House has just jumped up and decided to rear its ugly head, taking power and deciding to make things happen _their _way," Annie stumbled, frowning.

"Because, of course, Gryffindors have never displayed a fondness for hypocrisy or self-righteousness." Tobias snorted.

"That's not the point."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then what is your point? Slytherin's finally stopped being the quarter of the school everyone stamps down on and now you don't like it?"

"You're saying that Slytherins have been an _oppressed minority_? Are you mad?" Annie stood up, throwing her hands in the air. "You stamped back just as hard."

He shrugged. "Sink or swim. You're having problems with my house, with my classmates. What's your point? What's this got to do with me?"

"I just can't believe you're not condemning this crap." She shook her head, looking at him with disbelief.

Tobias raised an eyebrow again. "Why bother? You seemed to decide from the very beginning that I'm in cahoots with everyone else in my house. I thought we established a while ago what my views on the Slytherin debacles were, but you've forgotten this." He rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, you're being given a hard time for going out with a Slytherin, and you don't like it."

"With… this squad…" Annie looked a degree more uncertain. "Obviously, I've had to put up with Cormac and Nick, but now Jennifer…even Diana… I don't know."

"They're telling you that the two of us are a bad idea, and now you're having doubts. It's good to know that you're capable of making decisions of your own. Because everyone around you has suddenly doubled in Slytherin-hate, you don't want to stand up and take the flak for being the girlfriend of a snake," Tobias muttered, beginning to pace. The emptiness in his belly was filling somewhat – only, now, with anger.

"No. It's not that." Her voice found strength. "I don't want anything to do with this Inquisitorial Squad nonsense. And I don't want to go out with anyone who thinks that it has a point, who thinks that any of this is fair. I don't want to go out with someone who supports a system where points are deducted 'For being Muggle-born', or just for looking at a member of the squad 'In a funny way'. I'm not going to tolerate that."

Tobias glanced up at her, pausing. "So you're not going to tolerate me." He sighed, and straightened up. "I'm not a member of the Inquisitorial Squad." Her eyes widened a little with disbelief, but he carried on before she could challenge him. "I just spoke with Professor Umbridge, who wanted to know why I, a senior Slytherin, was uninterested in joining the Squad. I told her exactly what I thought of her autocratic regime and sledgehammer tool of her authority that this Squad is." Tobias shrugged. "So she took my prefect badge away."

It sounded so petty when he said it – a badge? What was a badge, in the grand scheme of things? What the hell was being a prefect worth, _really _worth? But saying the words still gave him another blow to the gut, and he knew that it had been about far more than just wearing a shiny pin denoting his status.

"I… I didn't know," Annie admitted, her voice stumbling. "I… I'm sorry, for what I just said… about not tolerating…"

"It's more than that, though, isn't it," Tobias continued, not able to look at her. "Now, with the Inquisitorial Squad being mostly Slytherin's territory, member of the Squad or not, I'm still a Slytherin. I'm still directly associated with the people who are doing what you don't like. So you don't want to be publicly connected with me. Only you, Annie, being a good and decent Gryffindor, aren't going to say that."

He leaned against the door, arms folded across his chest. "So I'm going to make this easy for you. You wouldn't dream of dumping me just for being a Slytherin, even though that's exactly what you want to do."

"I… that's not fair," she told him unconvincingly.

"It's true, though." His expression darkened, and any hints of doing her a favour left his face. "You also assumed, without even asking me, that I'd signed up to this Inquisitorial Squad piece of tripe. So I'm going to make things easy for you, because if you think that little of me, if you really think that I have such weak morals? Then you really don't know me. Then you really don't respect me."

Tobias took a step away, then pulled the classroom door open. "And life's too short for me to spend even a few months of it with someone who doesn't respect me."

§

"What are you doing?"

Tanith opened her eyes to see the upside-down face of Ariane Drake looking at her quizzically. She shrugged as best she could while standing on her head, and paused for a moment as the movement threatened to unbalance her.

"Breathing exercise."

Ariane straightened up, still looking rather concerned that Tanith appeared to be attempting acrobatics in the corner of their dormitory, then stepped over to her bed and began to rummage around in the chest at the foot of it. "You're getting weirder."

"I've been reading up. Auror stuff. Since the career day." While talking at all negated something of the point of a breathing exercise, talking in a disjointed manner was far easier with the blood going to her head like this. "Exercises that they do. Techniques for focus. That stuff."

"Ah. That stuff." Ariane still didn't look convinced, but apparently didn't want to press the point as she finally, triumphantly, pulled a Charms textbook from out of her trunk. "So this is where it's been hiding all year…"

Tanith, with an agility that surprised herself, pushed off to roll back onto her feet, staggering only briefly as her blood circulation returned. "I think those Aurors were slightly nutty, myself. I just feel dizzy. I don't feel focused. But it was worth giving it a try, yeah?"

Ariane's only response was a mildly amused expression. "Did Van Roden give you those books on Aurors?"

"Yeah. I reckon he was probably pulling my leg."

"You might do better practicing to be an Auror by doing Potions revision, rather than standing on your head," Ariane agreed.

"Maybe standing on my head while doing Potions revision?" Tanith wondered, grinning to show she really wasn't serious.

They both glanced up as the door opened and Melanie Larkin stepped in, bag slung over her shoulder, fresh back from Ancient Runes of that afternoon. Right behind her, looking a little tentative – the first time Tanith had ever known him to be so – was Gabriel.

"I come bearing Doyle," Melanie declared, flopping down on her bed and looking ready to die for the weekend. "Said he had news for you."

Gabriel nodded, glancing around the girl's dorm, then gesturing to Tanith to join him in the corridor. "This won't take a minute," he assured her.

Tanith stepped outside, frowning with concern and shutting the door to the dormitory behind her. In the darkened corridor, her slight dizziness faded and she was only confronted with Gabriel looking a whole lot more serious than ever before. "What's up?"

"It's Tobias," Gabriel said, frowning. "He's gone to hell in a hand-basket. He talked to Umbridge – you knew that?"

"I knew he was going to. That didn't end well?"

"He apparently got uppity at her. Refused to join the Inquisitorial Squad. Got all… idealistic."

"All Grey-like." Tanith winced. "What did she do?"

"Took his prefect badge off him."

Tanith raised a hand to rub her temples. "God. Is he alright? I mean, of course he's not alright… where is he?"

"In the common room…" Gabriel reached out to grab her by the elbow as she tried to step past him. "That's not all. He's not in a good way. Seems he ran into MacKenzie afterwards."

"Oh, I'm _sure _she was comforting." Tanith scowled, unsure if she was being sarcastic or not.

"She dumped him. Or he pre-emptively dumped her. Or something. They broke up." Gabriel was looking at her with a surprisingly astute and analysing expression, clearly hoping for a hint of some kind in her reaction to this news.

Tanith wasn't about to give him any such satisfaction. "Oh," was all she could say, stopping in her desire to rush off and find and comfort Tobias that very second. "And… how's he taking that?"

"Well, he's only really talking to Cal right now." Gabriel shrugged.

"I see." Tanith frowned, then patted Gabriel on the arm. "Alright. I'll talk to him later. Thanks, Doyle… thanks for telling me."

Without waiting for a response, then, she turned around and stepped back into the dormitory, carefully closing the door behind her. Melanie and Ariane were both there, looking curious as to what Gabriel had needed to tell her in private.

"Excuse me, a moment." Tanith stepped over to the space just next to her bed, straightened up, and then proceeded to do a very ridiculous and very undignified little dance of glee.

Melanie watched dispassionately, then glanced at Ariane. "I suppose this means that Grey was looking like a puppy that had just been kicked throughout Ancient Runes because MacKenzie must have dumped him."

"Sort of." Tanith smirked slightly as her brief dance came to an end, then she straightened her robes and frowned. "I shouldn't be so smug. He's not in a good way? He looked bad? Upset?"

"Dumped people generally aren't happy." Melanie rolled her eyes. "You two would be cute if you weren't so nauseating."

Tanith shook her head. "No. You're just jumping to the wrong conclusions. He's clearly better off without that Gryffindor cow. And I said this from the beginning. He'd be far, far happier with someone like…"

"You?" Ariane smirked as she flicked through her Charms book.

"I'd react exactly the same way if Cal or Doyle had been going out with MacKenzie. The girl was trouble, and I've just been proven right if Grey's now gone all mope-y." Tanith sat down on her bed a little huffily.

"Issues," Melanie sighed to nobody in particular, stowing away her text books.

"You're also smiling. I find that creepy," Ariane said, looking unconvinced.

"I'm just…" Tanith paused, then scowled. "Look, the day's gone horribly for a friend. I'm just basking in the knowledge now that it can't get much worse?"

"That's some screwed-up logic." Melanie didn't look up. "I'm rather glad you're lying, or I'd think you were a shabby friend, instead of an insane-jealous friend."

"I am _not_…" Tanith looked up at the knock on the door, and frowned. "Come in!" Not even bothering to wait and see who it was, she looked back at the others. "I'm just saying, I don't think anything else bad is going to happen today."

Gabriel stuck his head in. "Hey. Tanith, just forgot to mention something. Miles is the new Slytherin prefect with the boys."

"_What_?" Tanith stood up, looking somewhat outraged. "_Miles_? What, would it _kill _you or Cal to try and do something good for once?"

Gabriel blinked. "Just passing on the message." He made a rather rapid retreat after this.

Ariane snickered quietly to herself. "Nothing else bad… serves you right."

Tanith sighed. "Fine. Fine. I'm going to talk to Grey." She stood up, then paused at their expressions. "Because he's my friend and he's unhappy, not because of… God! Minds _out _of the gutter!"

Melanie looked over at Ariane once Tanith was out of the room, and sighed. "Issues."

Ariane nodded solemnly. It was hard to argue with that statement.


End file.
